


Unending Wake: Those Who Forget

by harellanart (kabeone)



Series: Those Who Forget [2]
Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M, Time Travel AU, a lot of minor OCs - Freeform, unending wake au ... au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-05
Updated: 2017-08-28
Packaged: 2018-05-18 09:40:09
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 34,379
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5923633
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kabeone/pseuds/harellanart
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Based on a tumblr prompt that asked what would have happened if Solas did not reset things, but went back and gave Vir the answer instead. </p><p>Takes place after The Unending Wake: Chapter 15 (Chapter 16 doesn't happen)<br/>Read Unending Wake here for any of this to make sense:<br/>http://archiveofourown.org/works/5215334/chapters/12024020</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Small Acts of Rebellion

**Author's Note:**

> This scenario supposes that it would be possible for Solas to both find the solution as a direct result of going back in time to speak with Vir while simultaneously making it so that he never goes back in time to speak with Vir. There, of course, already seems to be a paradox of Solas being the reason Vir was sent back in the first place, but I have a reason for that, I just haven't written it out. Anyway, ignore paradox it's an AU of an AU

Solas was not angry yet. There were reports of an attack. There were injuries, but no deaths. Considering the attacker, that was an improvement. Therefore, he was not angry yet.

The guard lay unconscious next to the prisoner who was magically bound in place, but no one had gone in to help him. Once he was there, his guards followed him in with a healer. They saw to the man's injuries and carried him out. Solas crossed his arms and stared down at the Inquisitor.

Vir's face was bloodied and she seemed to be covered in something that looked like porridge. A cracked and overturned bowl confirmed his guess. He sighed. He prided himself on treating even prisoners humanely, but the Inquisitor seemed to test the boundaries of his restraint.

"What happened?" he asked the attendant who had come in to clean up.

"I wasn't here to witness it," the attendant replied keeping an excessive distance from Vir. "All I know is that Lindel brought in her food."

They had been speaking elven, but Vir's lips twitched. He was never certain how much of their language she understood.

"Well?" he said, giving her a chance to speak in her own defense.

Her eyes met his. "He tried to force me to eat."

"She only eats every three days," the attendant whispered as he finished his task. He picked up the broken bowl and backed out of the room.

Solas stared at Vir, reassessing her appearance. She was thinner than he remembered when she first surrendered to deliver the solution. She held herself rigidly with a slight tremor in her posture that could have been anger or fatigue. It was probably both.

"Is there something wrong with the food?"

"No."

"Are you ill?"

"No."

He did not wish to play games with her. "Then why are you doing this? I thought you had surrendered voluntarily."

"I surrendered to give you my information and I have done so. I did not agree to indefinite confinement."

"It is not indefinite," he said defensively. "The information you presented was too vast to confirm at once. You agreed to this confinement until I was able to determine the viability of these theories."

"I agreed to answer your questions about the theories and repeat to you what I know at your request. I never agreed to confinement, doing so was your choice."

"Do you expect me to allow you free run of my tower?"

"I expect nothing," she said mildly. "I am merely stating what I agreed to and what you chose to do as a result."

He took a slow breath then another. "That still does not explain the food."

"It is the only thing that I control about my circumstances." She quirked her lips. It might have been a smile, but it was an unfamiliar expression on her face. "Call it a small act of rebellion."

"The guard would not agree."

The smile disappeared and she allowed him to see past her mask of calm to the rage behind it. "The guard tried to force me to eat."

He sighed and left the room. The healer who had seen to Lindel held supplies to treat Vir's injuries and a stack of clothing. She hovered near the guards and moved no closer to the doorway. Solas took pity on her and relieved her of her burdens. He returned to Vir and placed the supplies next to her. He reached for her face, but she shied away as much as her bindings would allow.

"You don't need to do that," she said. Her voice sounded rough, but she did not bother to clear it.

"You terrify my healers and you are injured," he said quietly. "I will not force their magic, but I need you alive if I am to implement your solution." He reached for her again, but stopped short of touching her. "Or do you prefer the alternative?"

The muscle in her jaw tightened. She met his eyes, her gaze sharp and searching. She sagged in defeat and allowed him to continue.

He tried to be brisk, but once his magic touched her he saw how tenuous her health truly was. The side of her face had swollen, masking the hollowness of her cheeks. The overly warm feel of her skin indicated fever. Despite the clearness of her gaze she barely held to consciousness.

"You are weak, you need to eat more," he murmured, gently placing his fingers along her temple, banishing her fever. Her eyes flicked to the place where the guard had been as if to remind him that she was not as weak as she appeared. He almost smiled. "I will not force you, but anger cannot sustain you forever. Perhaps we can find a different way for you to control your circumstances. Do you have any suggestions?"

"I asked for a pen and paper. I could write everything down and there would be no need to keep me here."

He paused with his hand cupping her cheek, insinuating his magic to reduce the swelling. Her skin went from clammy to warm, from grey to a healthier color. "I was not aware of that," he said.

She looked away fixing her gaze on the floor. "They didn't want me to have anything sharp."

He sighed. "I will see to it that you are given what you need."

He finished his task and stood, not waiting for a response. He dismissed her bindings as he left and was halfway out the door when he thought he heard a whispered, _Thank you_. But he could have been imagining it.

* * *

The stack of papers was an inch thick and incomplete according to his attendant. He made a face and picked up the first page, expecting to find the half-literate scrawl he remembered from their time in the Inquisition. Instead, the page contained row after row of perfectly neat writing. Beautiful writing, he was forced to admit.

"Did someone transcribe this for her?" he asked. It would make sense, no one wanted to trust her with even a quill despite his insistence. Their terror of her went beyond reasonable.

"No," the attendant replied. "She writes alone in the room then leaves her supplies by the door in exchange for food. That way she doesn't have a weapon when someone else is in the room."

Solas rubbed the bridge of his nose. "Thank you," he said. There was nothing he could do about their fears until she was gone and if she had cultivated such a terrifying persona that it inconvenienced her now, well that was neither his fault nor his problem.

He read through the stack of pages. Whoever gave her the answers he had been seeking for years was a match for him in knowledge of the Veil. He wanted to meet them, whoever they were. With their help there was no doubt he could rebuild the world for his people while leaving hers relatively intact. It was frustrating that no matter how he questioned, directly or otherwise, he could not convince her to reveal even a hint of her source.

One page contained a diagram along with the words that had been used to describe it. Her drafting skills were remarkable, especially without proper tools, but something seemed off about the layout. He took the pages with him and went to her room. The guard unlocked the door and let him through.

She sat at the small desk in the corner contemplating the remains of her last meal.

"What is that?" Solas could not help but ask. The "food" was a soft looking substance piled onto a thick piece of cardstock. She was eating with her fingers.

"I'm not sure," she replied, he thought he heard laughter in her voice. "At least it doesn't taste bad, though it is somewhat messy. Or did you mean the thing it's on. Apparently, bowls are dangerous weapons now too."

He left the room and returned with a damp towel. He handed it to her. "I am sorry," he said, trying to keep the irritation from his voice. "These were not my orders."

She waved away his apology. "I've been in worse prisons. They're just afraid." She eyed the stack of papers he still held. "Questions?"

"Yes," he said, "This diagram seems incorrect." He held out the page for her to see. She glanced at it and nodded.

"He said you might feel that way. The circle is affected by the physical realm as well as the Fade because of the Veil. He was unable to calculate the precise effects because he lacked the tools to measure. That is why points have been indicated in which you can conduct your own experiments to calculate a more precise diagram. Page sixty-three, I believe."

Solas flipped to the page in question and nodded. " _He_ ," he said. "You still have not told me who gave this to you. I would like to meet him. I promise he will come to no harm." At that she looked stricken. She tried to hide it, but was only partly successful.

"You can't. He," she exhaled and looked at the ceiling, blinking rapidly, "sacrificed himself to get me this information."

"Oh," he said taken aback. She had used and lost countless agents to aid her cause. He had never seen her show any signs of caring for someone enough to display any emotion much less tears. "I am sorry for your loss."

She nodded mutely and turned back to the desk.

"He was important to you?"

"Yes," she said. "He was my.... hope. He came through in the end." She picked up the pen and began to write, but she paused and looked back over her shoulder. "Please don't waste what he did for all of us."

"I will do my best," Solas said.

She nodded and returned to her work.


	2. Lindel

Lindel shuffled into the room with the prisoner's food, first confirming that her writing implements were stacked neatly next to the door. His wounds had long since healed, but he had traded duties with other guards to avoid this one. Unfortunately, today his friend was sick and could not take his place.

The prisoner was sitting at her desk with her back to the door. She glanced over her shoulder at the sound of him entering the room. He approached reluctantly, extending the flimsy plate at arms length. She tilted her head toward the desk indicating where he should leave it.

Hands shaking despite his best efforts, he placed the plate on the desk and backed away quickly. She regarded it and him with about the same level of interest. He turned and tried to make his way to the door, but tripped over his own feet and nearly fell. She turned to watch him curiously and only then did he see the three scratches still prominently marring her cheek. He had the benefit of daily treatment to speed his healing, she had been seen to once and left to heal at her own pace.

Lindel had never hurt anyone before. While his gaze flicked over her wounds, her eyes finally focused on his. Whether or not she recognized him before, she certainly did now. He stumbled back toward the door past the guard. When he was out of sight in the corridor, he fled.

 

* * *

 

Lindel was still on food duty. Each time he entered the room he waited for the prisoner to exact her revenge. Was that not what she was known for? Still, days passed and the worst she had done was narrow her eyes when he had gawked at her for too long.

Which he was doing now.

"I'm sorry," he blurted. The words were out of his mouth before he could stop himself. He glanced over his shoulder. The guard that waited outside pretended not to hear. "I shouldn't have touched you."

Her brow raised at his words, but she inclined her head.

"Thank you," he said nervously, "for not killing me."

A small smile curved her lips, she caught his gaze and held it. "Banal melana'nehn," she said.

Her inflection voiced the many meanings of the simple phrase, It will never happen again. He will never try again and she will not spare him again. He nodded emphatically and backing away. The guard gave him a hard stare, but said nothing as he walked past. He made it to the corridor without tripping and only when alone wondered at her fluency and who she really was.

 

* * *

 

There was no guard anymore, they were short handed and the locked door was reinforced with magic, deemed enough to hold the prisoner. Lindel unlocked the room with a key and touched a talisman to a rune dismissing the magical barrier, allowing him entrance. It was far less terrifying than it had been weeks ago. He almost felt sorry for the woman within.

The food was not appealing. It contained everything a person needed to survive. The scouts ate it as rations in the field, so Lindel was told, but field duty did not usually last more than a month and scouts were always able to supplement their meals with hunting and judicious gathering. Still, the prisoner had never complained despite her initial refusal to eat. Apparently, that had nothing to do with the food.

Lindel glanced briefly at the stack of papers on the floor. Usually they contained complex notation or diagrams, today there were sketches of ruins and partial maps. His eyes lingered on the topmost page, craning his neck as he walked, he lost track of his surroundings and again tripped over his own feet.

The prisoner never made sudden moves when he was in the room, but suddenly she was next to him. She caught the plate before he could lose it and also caught him with the remains of her left arm, keeping him from falling. He regained his balance and backed away, apologizing profusely.

She placed the plate on her desk and jerked her chin at the papers next to the door. "See something of interest?" she asked.

"Just the map," Lindel said staring back at it. "It's well done. I used to make maps."

"Why did you stop?"

Lindel looked at his feet. "They don't last anymore." He raised his hand tracing the air following the lines of her sketch that he saw in his mind. A ghostly shape formed in the wake of his thoughts and gestures. It was the same drawing, but he gave it texture, the memory of stone, the smell of a fountain, the sound of the birds commonly found in that area. He stopped when he ran out of information to add. "It stays as long as I think about it, but we used to be able to make entire books that would last long after I'm gone."

"I remember seeing some of them in the Vir Dirthara," the prisoner said. "When my people tried to reconstruct our past long ago, we found so little to work from. Most writing was only fragments. We thought that humans had destroyed most of it, but really it was all kept in a way we couldn't even imagine."

"It's more fleeting than we thought," he said and even as he spoke the page disappeared. He watched it drift away sadly and glanced back at the pages on the floor. "Perhaps we should have written down more and constructed less."

She snorted, "Those pages would burn more easily than your magic books. It just means that there should always be a backup if you don't want to lose something." She returned to her desk. "So you were a mapmaker. Not a fighter then?"

"Yes, I didn't have skills to fight and I'm not very good in the field for scouting. It's probably why I'm still alive." It took him a moment to realize that the reason so many scouts were dead was standing only a few feet away from him. He cringed.

There was no angry retort, not even a defensive one, only a look of regret. "I suppose you are fortunate then," she said turning away. It was a dismissal, of that he was certain. Lindel took himself out, just barely remembering to lock up behind him.

 

* * *

 

_They could put fruit in this. Dried fruit, maybe something to give it texture, would that hurt?_ Lindel thought with irritation. _She can't kill me with an oat bar or a handful of nuts, can she?_ Maybe he could suggest a little variation, they had supplies enough.

He opened the door and found her kneeling on the floor. It would not be a comfortable position for anyone, much less a person with only one arm. The prisoner was drawing another map, a large map from what he could tell. However, she did not have a large surface to draw on so she had laid out several pieces of paper on the floor side by side. Careful tears in each page allowed them to be slotted together. An ingenious way to make one large, somewhat fragile sheet of paper. She bent over it, laboriously sketching the terrain of what appeared to be Thedas. Without the ability to lean on her free arm she was forced to hold herself over it with core strength alone. Just the sight of it made his back hurt in sympathy.

She looked up at his entrance and sat back. "Sorry," she said rolling her pen toward the corner away from her. "I lost track of the time."

Lindel ignored the pen in favor of the pages on the floor. He gestured at them after leaving her meal on the desk. "May I?" he asked.

She stood slowly, wincing as she straightened, and nodded curiously. He waved at the pages on the floor, carefully levitating them as one piece. Another gesture sent them upright against the wall. He spared a glance at the prisoner. Her brows were raised in pleased surprise. She walked up to the map and reached up as high as she could. The top pages were several inches too high. He lowered them until they were comfortably within reach.

"A little to the right," she said and he moved the map as requested. "Now left," he moved it left until it was back where it started. He glanced at her in confusion, then realized she was laughing silently. He chuckled, shaking his head, then fixed the map in place.

"I'll have to refresh the spell that holds it every other day, but it'll stay up for a while," he said diffidently.

"Thank you," she replied. She pursed her lips, "May I ask you a question?"

"I-" he hesitated, "Yes."

"You were terrified of me even before we fought. Your magical combat skills were the equivalent of angry shouting. And you aren't trained in physical combat at all. What possessed you to fight me?"

He looked down at his feet, his ears burning in shame and humiliation, "I'm sorry."

"I didn't mean to insult you and I won't hurt you no matter what your answer is," she said more gently. "I promise."

"We were here to bring down the Veil. We thought it was soon. Then you came and everything changed. We didn't know why. We thought you must be up to something, planning to end us, and that you somehow tricked the Dread Wolf. I thought if I fought you, the guards would have to kill you to save me. Then we could continue as planned. I didn't think you would stop fighting as soon as I was unconscious. I thought you'd kill me or at least keep trying to. It would force the guards to act."

"You had a plan to kill me even though you weren't a fighter?" she asked.

He nodded.

"You were ready to sacrifice yourself to do it?"

"I'm nothing, they don't need me here. If it would save the People, I'd die for it."

"You're wrong."

"I know I was wrong, I'm sorry."

"No, you're wrong now," she looked at him intently. "They do need people like you. Rebuilding your world will take more than fighters and you're smart if a little inexperienced."

"Thank ... you," he said surprised at the compliment.

"But this inability to defend yourself and tripping over your own feet won't do," she said. "Do they have plans to train you?"

He shook his head, his face and ears still red. "The trainers are needed elsewhere. I'm here because it's the safest place."

She sighed. "Fine," she said. "We'll start with your first move."

"What?" he said, looking around nervously.

"Your first attack was a simple grab," she said, though she did not approach him, much to his relief. "I will show you how to do it properly, then I will show you what I did to counter." She tilted her head. "Alright?"

She seemed sincere, to be honest, she could probably kill him if that was her goal and she had fewer reasons to now. He nodded. "Yes, please."

She bowed, "Then let's begin."

 

* * *

  
Solas had been traveling, investigating several of the areas indicated by the Inquisitor to take measurements. He had managed to accurately calculate a new diagram and returned to find the remaining documentation of the theory waiting for him. His assistant told him that the Inquisitor was working on providing additional information, but had not completed it yet. His mood was good as he strode down the corridor. The theory had held so far and his tests had left him surprisingly optimistic.

He found the door to the Inquisitor's cell unguarded and unlocked, but closed. He opened it cautiously and was greeted by an alarming sight. The same guard that had tried to force Vir to eat had her arm pinned behind her back and her wrist twisted in the air.

"What is the meaning of this?" he demanded, readying a spell that would freeze one or both of them.

"He's improving," Vir said with a grin. Lindel gulped audibly and released her. He began to stammer an explanation, but she shook her head and shooed him away. He waved his hand at the map and Solas could feel the magic refreshing the spell that held it there. He shuffled through the doorway and hurried off out of sight.

Vir shrugged dismissing the scene entirely. "He needed defense training or he's going to die the moment he encounters something that means him harm."

"Are you training and giving orders to my people now?" Solas asked. He meant it as a joke, but it came out more suspicious than he intended and she heard it.

"Only the ones you neglect and leave defenseless," she replied evenly.

His good mood evaporated, but he refused to trade barbs with her when she had technically done nothing wrong. He turned to the map instead. She grabbed the pen from her desk and resumed working. "A fine rendering," he commented finally. "I was not aware that you were an artist."

She shook her head. "There's no art in what I'm doing." She made another mark, neatly drawing the legend symbol and labeling it.

Humility on her was unfamiliar. "Anything can be art, but what are you doing?"

"Marking the locations of additional artifacts that you might not be aware of. You may need them." She gestured at the stack of pages on the desk.

Solas picked them up. They were not the technical theories dictated by her source, but descriptions of various artifacts, their locations, and known defenses. The voice on the page was strong, a person with keen powers of observation, but no connection to the Fade or intimate knowledge of magic. It was likely she had visited these places personally. He brought the stack of papers to the map. Some artifacts were known to him, some he had already gathered, but many were ancient sources of power he had written off as lost or destroyed.

"How did you find all of this?"

"I looked," she said blandly.

"You looked," he repeated with a frown in her direction. "Did your friend help you look?" It was the wrong thing to say. He realized it the moment he said it.

"What's the matter, Solas?" she drawled after a moment of icy silence. "Can't believe a tranquil could find something you missed?"

She often referred to herself that way. Sometimes it was self deprecating, a genuine acknowledgment of her separation from the Fade in comparison to him and his people. Most of the time it was a taunt, as it was now. He had a ready retort when the next page caught his eye. A diagram of an altar surmounted by a spear.

The diagram was accompanied by careful measurements and additional sketches of the mosaics that adorned the walls. Her notes theorized that the altar had fallen into a cavern during one of the Blights. It was a place of great power, lost to time until now. If it was what he thought, and the mosaics reinforced that belief, it held more than enough power to accomplish any goal.

The Dalish had legends about this weapon. Any elf, mage or not, would feel the power radiating from it. Indeed she had made notes to the effect, describing the temperature changing as one approached the altar. She who had sought power without regard for its source had found it somehow and simply left it there.

_Why did you not use this weapon as you used everything else?_ Was not a question likely to be well received. He sighed. "Can we... stop fighting for a moment?"

She paused, her pen hovering over the surface of the map, she lowered it and faced him. "Can you promise that even if these theories don't work, you won't tear down the Veil and destroy my people? Can you promise that no matter what comes you'll look for an alternative?"

He stared at the spear. She had nearly held the power to change the world in her hands, but walked away from it. Perhaps she had done so in ignorance. She made no guesses as to what the spear was in her notes. Regardless, he could not do the same. "I cannot do that," he said. "I must restore the world for my people, even if it means the end of yours."

She turned back to her map, making a few more hatch marks before labeling the location of a mountain range. "Then no," she said calmly, "I'm afraid we cannot stop fighting."

While he understood her reasons perfectly, it was still frustrating. He wanted, needed, someone to discuss this with and despite the fact that she was no mage, she was the most knowledgeable. "For whatever it's worth," he said quietly, "I believe your plans will work."

Her hand wavered over the map, she lowered her pen again. "We could fight respectfully," she offered.

"Are you certain?" The words had left his mouth unchecked, she seemed to have that effect on him. He expected a rebuke, after such a concession he might even deserve one, but she laughed genuinely and returned to her work.

"We'll see," was her reply.

 


	3. A Guest

Solas stayed far longer than he intended the first evening. He returned the next day and then the next. Sometimes their conversations would devolve into the most painfully polite arguments he had ever experienced. Still, she surprised him with her insight and he often wondered how she could know so much and when in all the chaos of their war she had found the time to learn it. He turned his attention to the present. The Inquisitor had been describing her process of locating artifacts. A system of observations he found ingenious, though unnecessary for someone like himself.

It was not until an attendant arrived, inquiring whether or not he would be dining that Solas realized the hour. He spoke to the man quietly, requesting two meals so that they could continue their discussion. The food was brought in on trays and placed on temporary tables in the room. Solas ate while standing, chewing thoughtfully as he peered at a dark set of markings on her map. He tried to imagine the temple or structure that would have corresponded to the ruins indicated there.

"If this belongs to Dirthamen as implied by your sketches, there should have been another temple nearby." He leafed through her notes. "I do not see any mention of it, I would guess it would be somewhere here," he pointed at a blank area on the map.

She closed her eyes, her lids fluttering as she recalled the area from her memories. "There's a large cavern there. It's overgrown, but the whole area looks like a giant crater. I had assumed it was another darkspawn collapse." She grabbed her pen and marked the basin with the name the locals had given it.

"Indeed, and-" he paused, frowning at the pair of trays. His was nearly empty, but aside from the drink, hers was untouched. "Is there something wrong with the food?" he asked.

"No, it's fine," she said carefully. He waited unmoving for her to elaborate. Finally after several minutes of silence she waved her hand at the tray helplessly. "I haven't eaten solid food in more than a month. Everything on that plate would make me ill."

He looked at the room, seeing it for the prison that was. It was bare of any comfort, holding only her writing supplies, a desk, and a cot. "I apologize," he said quietly. "Why did you not say anything before?"

"It's temporary and I've lived in worse." She said with a shrug.

"Perhaps," he mused, considering his options. "But this is unnecessary. Come with me." He opened the door and waved her through.

He led her to the guest wing of the tower. Selecting the last room at the end of the hall. The tower itself was not built for luxury, but the guest rooms were more comfortable than her cell.

"I'll have Lindel transfer your maps and bring you something to eat," he said. "We will transition you back to real food slowly."

She surveyed the room, her brow furrowed.

"What is it? Is there something wrong?"

It took her more time to answer than he would have expected. "No," she said finally. "This is much better, thank you."

He nodded taking her at her word and left to complete his new task. He felt her eyes watching him as he retreated down the hall and spared a moment to wonder if he was making a mistake.

* * *

"This is a mistake, Lindel," Bishali insisted. She was finally well and had offered to cover his guard shift, but Lindel no longer needed to avoid the Inquisitor. He had begun to look forward to their lessons, odd though they were. "Do you know how many of us she's killed? There's almost no one left. Inan's people, the forward teams, at least four assassins!"

"You can't really blame her for killing an assassin." Lindel rifled through shelves of uniforms and other gear for something appropriate. He settled on a few things that might fit and added them to his stack.

"She killed a boat load of children!" Bishali exclaimed. "I'm worried about you, Lindel. First you come up with an idiotic scheme to kill her, now you're practically her servant. Did she really hit you that hard?" Her eyes searched his intently then unfocused and looked through him. Healing magic gently assessed his skull and the surrounding area where he had been hit.

"Stop that," Lindel said, throwing up a light barrier to disperse her magic.

She frowned. "I'm coming with you."

"Good," Lindel said.

"Good?"

"Yes, you can carry these and help her into them." He handed her a stack of clothes.

"What-" she looked through the stack. "You're giving her clothes now?"

"Aside from when I got porridge all over her, she's been wearing the same thing since she arrived. I know one of the others spelled it clean, but... it just seems so crude to treat a her like a prisoner."

"She is a prisoner," Bishali reminded him.

"No, she volunteered to stay and now she's in the guest quarters."

The healer sighed. "Fine. If I help her change I can see if she's up to something."

"I told you before, she can't cast a spell," Lindel insisted. "She's the least magical elf I've ever met."

At that, Bishali only shuddered and changed the subject.

Lindel led his friend into the room after a brief knock on the door. The Inquisitor nodded at him and only raised a brow at his companion. Lindel surveyed the room. He had seen it before, but was pleased that nothing had been removed.

"This is much better. More civilized," he commented.

"I'll tell the Dread Wolf you approve," she replied with a tilt of her head and grinned at their identically terrified expressions. "I'm just kidding," she reassured them.

Bishali nudged him with an elbow. He recovered enough for an introduction. "This is my friend, Bishali. You might remember her?" He knew that she would. The Inquisitor never seemed to forget anything.

"Of course," she bowed.

"We brought you clothes. It'll make you look less foreign. Bishali will help you with them if you need it. She's a healer and wants to make sure you're healthy," he blurted all at once.

Bishali sighed and grasped his shoulder, turning him from the room and propelling him out the door. It shut behind him. He could almost hear them staring at each other. He ran off to his other duties and hoped for the best.

* * *

Bishali eyed the Dread Wolf's greatest enemy. The woman who had killed hundreds personally and caused the death of thousands more. The Inquisitor was... shorter than she had expected.

"Are you really here to see that I'm healthy?" the woman asked diffidently.

Bishali straightened her back and raised her chin. "Do not be afraid, I will not hurt you." Her common was serviceable, if slow. She spoke carefully to make sure she used the right words. Words choice was very important in a language with almost no nuance.

"I thank you," the Inquisitor replied the same way.

Bishali narrowed her eyes for a moment to see if the woman was mocking her. She offered the stack of clothing. "Lindel thought you might like to wear something else."

The Inquisitor moved forward slowly like a person attempting not to startle a nug. She moved away just as carefully and placed the clothes on the bed. She stripped off her shirt without any indication of modesty or concern for the presence of another person. Apparently she did not feel threatened. Bishali unfocused her eyes and drew the Fade into her sight. The Inquisitor's life glowed before her, fierce and unwavering. Her entire spirit was sharp, as if she had honed herself into a weapon. She was almost too bright to see, like one of the wise. It was surprising for someone without magic, but there was more...

"You're dying," Bishali said. She covered her mouth. It was rude and careless to deliver such shocking news without any tact.

"Of what?" the woman asked calmly, still settling her new clothes into place and adjusting the straps and buckles with only one hand.

With her gaze so keenly tuned to her spirit Bishali expected to see something. Surprise, fear, something, but there was nothing, no reaction at all. "I can't describe it. It's not disease. It's not a wound. Your energy is... it's draining into the Fade. It just disappears. You don't have much longer to live. A decade, maybe two, certainly no more than three," she whispered. "I'm sorry." Finally, the aura pulsed a bit, not with sorrow, but amusement.

"Have you never examined a mortal before?"

"What?"

The Inquisitor laughed. "I'm almost fifty, my kind rarely live to be a hundred. Thirty more years with my lifestyle would be a miracle and very unpleasant for my joints." She smiled apologetically. "My kind are all dying. It's just how we are."

"But..." Bishali sputtered, "you fought so hard to preserve your people and you're all just going to die anyway."

The Inquisitor's smile faded. "Should I have stood by and let you destroy us? If our lives are so short and meaningless could you not have slept in waiting for us to disappear before you chose to act?"

"Your kind destroy the world," Bishali retorted, anger overcoming the need for politeness. "You harm the spirits, you disturb the Fade."

"Ah," the Inquisitor nodded sagely, unperturbed. "So living is not all that matters, but living well. I will not rest while your kind would harm mine. I may die, every mortal I know will die, but they will have children and they will live on and build new things and shape the world for good or ill, just as yours would. It is our way. It is worthy. I fight for that."

Bishali digested the words. She could not fault the woman's reasoning. "You almost sound noble. You almost sound like one of us."

The corners of the Inquisitor's mouth formed a bitter smile. "I am neither of those things."

* * *

Solas returned to the tower after another expedition to test the Inquisitor's solution. She had settled into her new room and seemed far less frail than the last time he saw her. She had also apparently been given a new outfit.

Something about seeing the Inquisitor wearing traditional elven garb was striking. Even common clothing meant for his scouts seemed to give her a more noble bearing. She turned from her map and caught his appraisal. She bowed with an ironic flourish and an arched brow that invited comment.

"You wear it well," he said returning her bow without irony.

She seemed surprised at the compliment and glanced away briefly. "It was Lindel's idea. He thinks I should try to blend. I didn't have the heart to tell him that it's not the clothes."

"I suspect he knows." Solas replied. "I never thanked you for taking an interest in his training. Given your brief history with him, it is something of a surprise."

She shrugged. "He made a mistake, but he's a good kid."

"He is several thousand years older than you," he reminded her. "We all are."

She met his eyes and something about them sparked with mischief. "You wear it well."

He coughed in surprise. "Thank you," was all he could think to say.

It was such a meager compliment, but still his wits failed him. They might have stood in silence for longer, but another of his scouts, a man who called himself "Card," interrupted. "You wanted to be informed when Inan's group arrived. She asked to speak with you." He turned to Vir. "Lindel said to tell you that the training grounds are available."

Vir nodded, ignoring his look of surprise. "Thank you, Card. Give me a moment and I'll meet him there."

"You use my assistants now?" he asked. He had installed her in the guest wing and allowed her to move about the tower with an escort. He had assumed the only one willing to do so would have been Lindel. In retrospect, he should not have been surprised. She had moved nations by cleverness and sheer force of personality. His people would not have been immune.

She shrugged. "Lindel has other duties and it seemed more polite to send messengers than shout."

"Indeed." He chuckled. "Well I see that you have an engagement to attend as do I." He paused. "I was not aware that Lindel's training had progressed to the point where he required so much space." Card, who was still there waiting to escort the Inquisitor, snorted.

Vir smiled apologetically. "It's not just Lindel anymore. I told him to find anyone that's not versed in combat who wants to learn. There's ten of them now." She bobbed her head and walked past him. "I shouldn't keep them waiting."

Solas was left standing alone in her room with a blank expression. It was only when the Inquisitor had disappeared from view that he remembered someone was waiting for him.

* * *

"Fen'Harel," Inan said, holding her hand out in greeting. She stood among a group of elves, all leaders of the scattered survivors of his past mistakes.

"Inan," he greeted. He spoke and looked directly at her, but he was keenly aware of the presence of the others behind her. They made no move to greet him themselves, which meant they had chosen her as their spokesperson. This was both good and bad. He would only have to gain the support of one person, but the task would not be easy.

Inan had been an elven warrior, wielding combative magics as easily as her two handed maul. She stood more than a head taller than he and a handspan broader. She spent millenia preserving her people as well as she could. They had lived on the outskirts of human settlements to the far west. Surviving by watching the mortals from a distance and never making contact. Those that approached would be warned off and those who failed to heed their warnings would die. The last time he met with Inan was just after he took the power of Mythal from Asha'bellanar.

She had been one of the first to respond to his call, eager to end the reign of mortals and aide in the return of the People. When he announced this new course, he had known there would be resistance. There would be those who wanted the Veil removed completely even if it was no longer necessary to do so. He steeled himself for her anger. What he received was far worse.

She smiled. A flash of sharp white teeth contrasting against her dark skin that for a moment reminded him of Vir.

He took her offered wrist and she gripped his in return. "I understand our plans have changed," she said.

"Yes, we have discovered the means to restore our place in the world without removing the Veil."

"And why would we wish to do that?" Her hand gripped his wrist painfully for only a fraction of a second before she released him.

His feelings about the mortal world were complicated, but his explanation was not. "If we can co-exist peacefully with these mortals, we should try."

"Should we? Was it not you who was certain of their ways? Thuggish and crude. Ending their reign would be a gift to this world. A swift death is more than they deserve. Those were your words. Is that not why so many of us spent our lives in your war? Now you tell me we died for nothing. That what is left of us should co-exist with these mortals as they fumble about with their lives and magic, harming everything within sight with ignorance in the rare occasions where they run out of malice."

"I do not fault you for your anger, Inan." Solas said. "But we do not truly know what the effect of bringing down the Veil will be. In either case, we will be rebuilding our people from nothing. To be able to do so without more bloodshed is a gift."

"Exactly how did you obtain this miraculous gift?"

She already knew the answer. She only wanted him to say it. "The Inquisitor provided the information, but I have confirmed it on my own. As to how she discovered it, an agent of hers developed the theory, but he sacrificed himself in order to do so."

"Convenient," Inan remarked. "It seems that befriending this Inquisitor is just as fatal as opposing her." Solas opened his mouth to answer, but she cut him off with a gesture. "I wish to see this Inquisitor for myself. Where are you keeping her?"

"She is no longer a prisoner," Solas said, attempting to keep the reluctance from his voice.

"That was not the question, lethalin. Take me to her."

Solas glanced around the room, taking note of its occupants a second time. The number of representatives was telling. While he led the people in this fight to remove the Veil, now that plans had changed, his leadership would be in question. They still needed him to implement the new solution, but he would not be the only one to make decisions. In a way he was glad, but at this moment, the question of their direction was not settled. The leaders of the last of his people waited for his next words with interest.

"She is training some of our people who were never versed in fighting," he said and gestured toward the exit. "This way."

They followed him down the stairs to the ground level and through a tunnel which led to the practice yard. He could hear them murmuring to each other and could only wonder what Inan could have planned.


	4. Inan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The elvhen do not like Solas's change of plans. They like his new ally even less.

Solas and the visiting group of elves gathered in the entryway of the training grounds. From there they could just make out a small, one-armed figure directing several students in the basics of sword and shield.

The group under her instruction were his clerks and runners. Like Lindel, some of them had shared guard duty, but most could do little more than signal an alarm. None of them had ever seen real combat. It made sense that they were capable of trusting the Inquisitor, none of them had been forced to face her as an enemy. She carried no weapon of her own, instead she paired them against each other, correcting rebellious arms and legs with a patience she had not evidenced among her Inquisition forces.

Solas watched Inan as she watched the Inquisitor. The warrior carried no visible weapons, having surrendered them upon entering his tower. That made her no less dangerous. The way that she measured the Inquisitor did not bode well for her plans.

"Is she instructing them on your orders?" she asked, her eyes never leaving her target.

"No," he answered, reluctant to reveal how much freedom the Inquisitor had taken for herself. "When she discovered that no one was training them, she took it upon herself to teach those who wished to learn."

"And you are treating her as a guest, not a prisoner. Correct?"

"Yes," Solas said and it was then that he realized her intent, but it was too late.

"Inquisitor Vir of Clan Lavellan," Inan called in ringing tones enhanced by magic. Her voice cut through the air, shocking the small group in the distance. Vir turned to face them. "As a guest of Fen'Harel and trainer of his soldiers," Inan continued before Solas could object, "you have been given status as an equal. As an equal, I, Inan of the Vallem, demand that you answer for your crimes against my people. I demand justice for their lives. I demand that you face me in trial by combat."

The elves in training began to put away their practice weapons, clearing the area. The Inquisitor approached them slowly, her pace allowing her to assess the group and her challenger as she neared.

She presented herself with a small bow and an ironic smile. "A challenge to test my honor. I'm surprised you didn't leap at my back from the sidelines with both daggers drawn."

Of course, it had been a common occurrence in the past, but the fact that she knew it surprised the attending elves. They murmured among themselves, though what they said was too muted for Solas to hear. Whether she had meant to or not, the Inquisitor had just confirmed something about herself. It would be in her best interest to say nothing at all. Unfortunately, he doubted she was capable of that.

Inan smiled and Solas did his best not to shudder. "Not all of us favored that approach. There are rules and customs that we follow when we wish."

Solas cleared his throat. If it was rules and custom Inan wanted, he would give her that. "One of these rules," he said carefully, "is that as my guest I am compelled to protect you. If you wish, I can be your champion and Inan may select her own." The elven representatives did not speak, but their demeanor grew distinctly colder at his offer to protect the Inquisitor.

"You have my notes," she said calmly. It was a statement, but she waited for a response.

"Yes."

"You can proceed without further information from me." Her eyes searched his, looking for the slightest look of hesitation.

"Yes," he said.

She squared her shoulders and raised her chin. "Good," she said with a nod for him. She turned to Inan. "I accept your challenge." Someone behind them gasped and Vir's group of trainees whispered to each other. Inan's smile tightened ever so slightly. Vir raised a brow, her only indication that she noticed. "I am not familiar with the rules of your trials. How shall we begin?"

Inan recovered quickly. "You must choose a second, but we do not compel our people to serve us any longer. Your second must agree and must be acquainted with the rules of a trial." She paused as Vir surveyed the elves before and behind her. "Choose carefully, Inquisitor. You will forfeit if you cannot find a second. You may choose any ally you have here, even the Dread Wolf."

"Why don't you just execute me?" she asked.

"Are you offering me your life?"

Vir shrugged as if the outcome hardly mattered. "I wouldn't want to waste your time."

"I have as much time as I wish, mortal," Inan snapped, "and honor demands a trial."

Understanding dawned on Vir's face and Solas thought Inan may have made a mistake. "A show. I can do that." She turned to Lindel who fidgeted nervously at her side. At her attention he stood straighter and met her eyes. "I choose Lindel for my second, if he would."

"Guard Lindel," Inan said, hiding her surprise better this time, "you do not have to agree if you do not wish to."

Solas expected some hesitation, but he simply bowed. "It is an honor, Inquisitor."

Inan smiled again. "You are brave, young one. I promise your death will be swift. I select the Dread Wolf as my second. Will you do me this honor, Fen'Harel?"

Solas had suspected the nature of this trap. Her selection of him as her second confirmed it. This was a test of his loyalties. There was nothing to be done about it now, except to allow Inan's game to run its course. He answered, but not before first meeting the eyes of every representative in attendance. Despite the illusion of choice, there was only one answer he could give. "Of course," he said with a bow of his own, "The honor is mine."

"Excellent," Inan said and turned back to address the Inquisitor. "You may have a few moments to prepare. Your second should explain the rest of the rules to you."

The Inquisitor may not have known their customs, but Lindel certainly did. "Point of order," he said. "She has no weapons."

Inan showed her hands. "Neither do I, which makes us even. This will be a fight of wits and ability."

"You are armored. You have magic," he said. "It's not fair."

Solas glanced at Vir, she seemed rather amused. There had been a few whispers among the gathered elves and now there was a hush as they waited for Inan's answer. As her second, he could not advocate for her opponent, but to his surprise Vir was the one who spoke.

"Lindel, it's fine," she said tugging at his sleeve with an almost rueful laugh. "I have neither delivered nor received 'fair' treatment before. I wouldn't expect to start now."

"No," Inan said thoughtfully, "he is correct." She shrugged off her coat. The gear she wore beneath was nearly identical to Vir's. It was not much of a concession, given that her main advantage was magic. However, if Vir could get past her spells, she was theoretically vulnerable to a physical attack.

The Inquisitor bowed acceptance and retreated to the other side of the field. Lindel was forced to follow.

 

* * *

 

A member of Inan's entourage prepared the area meant to hold their combat. A shield was cast in a golden dome that would keep the occupants inside. It would protect spectators from errant projectiles and only Solas and Lindel would be able to cross its bounds unharmed.

Vir watched the creation of the shield with interest. It was not the full size of the practice yard but large enough to grant her room to run.

"Stay in the ring," Lindel warned, his expression sour. "That barrier will fry you if you try to leave. They know you're an assassin, they don't want you to find cover."

"So... no weapons then?" She asked, taking off her tabard-like shirt. The leather vest beneath was sleeveless and she held out her arm indicating that he should use the thick cloth to wrap it. He complied without question, but his face betrayed his anger and concern.

"You may use any weapon that was on you at the time of challenge."

"Any weapon?" Vir asked and looped her belt around her hand. The buckle hung at the end, not heavy enough to do real damage, but Vir had worked with less.

"Any weapon that you have on you right now," Lindel repeated, approving of her preparations while trying not to look doubtful. "I'm also allowed to shield you once before the fight, advise your strategy, and argue on your behalf if you're accused of cheating."

"Fine. What can you tell me about Inan?"

"I only know rumors. She is a warrior, but she is also a mage. She enhances her weapons with fire. My shield could keep you alive through one hit, but no more."

"Really?" Vir raised her brows, impressed.

"I... I think so," he answered, adding quickly, "better not to get hit. Aside from that, I am to ensure that your opponent does not cheat. If you cannot fight, I can take your place or surrender on your behalf."

Vir caught his arm and shook it for emphasis. "You are to surrender immediately."

"It is my duty as second to try to win back your honor," he said pulling away. "The option to surrender is a formality."

"I have no honor to reclaim," Vir said fiercely. "I will not let you die for me. I told you, they will need you. That has not changed. You are my second, those are my orders." She stared into his eyes waiting for his acknowledgment.

He gave in with a sigh. "You should have chosen Fen'Harel as your champion," he accused. "Or at least made him your second. He knows Inan, he would have given better council. He could have cast a stronger shield. He's your host! He would have been honor bound to accept the position."

"This isn't about me, Lindel. It's about the Fen'Harel and the Veil. These elves," she said nodding at Inan her group, "think the Dread Wolf's loyalty has shifted, just as you once did. He would be forced to fight on my behalf. He would win, but it would prove his loyalties are not with them. He would lose their support and he needs them. If he chose to surrender he would have to take the terms that Inan offers. I have no doubt they would force him to remove the Veil. Either way he loses and I die. Maybe they thought killing me would force his hand," she mused aloud then shook her head to clear it. "This way, he'll have a chance to convince them that we're right. My people will live. That's all that matters."

Lindel shook his head in wonder at the trap they had almost walked into. "Then you've defeated her plans. You've already won."

"Well," Vir snorted, "I am about to die." She jerked her chin at her opponent. "Inan has few weaknesses. I'm not sure I can kill her, and even if I manage that, Fen'Harel will still step in. He would not hesitate to execute me and I will not lift a finger against him. She knew that too. Damn her." Vir smiled in admiration before continuing. "He won't allow her to make a slave of you. Some will call you a traitor. Some of your friends may shun you. I am sorry to drag you into this."

"My life is yours anyway," Lindel said. "You could have killed me before."

She patted his shoulder. "After this, no matter what, we're even. Shield me," she said.

He gathered as much of his power he could muster. It was not much. The glow of the shield he cast paled in comparison to the bright wall of protection that the Dread Wolf cast from across the way. Vir rubbed the back of her neck and smiled in admiration. "Those are his strongest shields," she said thoughtfully. "He's certainly taking his role seriously. I wonder..." she trailed off.

"What?"

"Nothing," she said shaking her head. "Ready?

"How..." Lindel asked as the thought suddenly occurred to him, "How did you know that about the terms of surrender? I thought you said you didn't know the rules."

"I lied," she said and stepped forward.

 

* * *

 

Solas had layered his shields around Inan and she had cast her own as well. The warrior was guarded against most physical attacks and several elemental ones. One might believe that they were merely toying with the Inquisitor. Her shields alone were enough to kill. Someone else might see it as cowardice to prepare so heavily against a lone fighter bereft of magic. Indeed, it hardly seemed fair, but those who were gathered knew that their preparations were a sign of respect. No one wished to underestimate the Inquisitor. Doing so proved deadly time and again.

The Inquisitor moved with confidence, but he would expect no less. Her arm was wrapped carefully in the tabard she had worn. The stump of her other arm was encased by the metal cap she used to attach her prosthetics. Lindel must have warned her about Inan's preference for fire. The boy had crafted a single shield, barely enough to handle the brunt of a single attack.

Solas spared a moment for something like pity. Despite his hatred of what she had done, she had found a peaceful end to their war and now sacrificed herself to deliver it. There was something to admire in that. One day, when he had time, he would acknowledge it.

"Are you ready?" Inan asked.

"Yes," Vir replied.

A single spark shot above their heads and slowly floated to the floor of the sparring ring. Neither combatant looked at it. They stared at each other from the short distance that separated them.

The spark landed in the dust between them and went out.

Inan cast a ball of flame that crossed the short distance to Vir. Solas had guessed her motivation for the challenge had been to upset their plans. Now with that plan thwarted, there was no glory to win and nothing to prove.

Vir surprised everyone by rushing forward, not even attempting to evade the attack. Lindel's shield absorbed the fire and collapsed, but it was enough to get Vir within range. For all her experience, Inan had not expected a grappling match. Vir continued her charge, her wrapped arm engulfed in flame. She came in low, hitting the taller elf in her midsection and lifting her clear off her feet. Her rush carried Inan backward some distance, the sight of the tiny elf carrying the larger was almost comical, until Solas saw where she was going. Her charge took them straight into the boundaries of the ring.

The shields, both his and Inan's, made contact with the golden barrier and exploded in a chain reaction of magic. Inan took the brunt of it, as the one at the center of it all. The resulting explosion knocked both fighters back toward the center of the ring.

Vir was the first to recover, looking quickly for her opponent. She found her target, stunned and burned, and wrapped her belt around Inan's neck. She jerked the belt tight with all her strength, it was almost enough.

Inan clawed at the air, panic rousing her from her stunned state as she struggled to breath. In desperation she managed to draw a symbol in the air. A ward tightened around Vir's neck.

Solas was certain that the fight would end then. Magic was more efficient than a belt and Vir was growing weaker, but she had not run out of tricks. She let go of the belt and brought the heel of her hand up to her own jaw in a violent strike. A sickening crunch echoed the inexplicable move. Then she used the last of her breath to spit in Inan's eyes.

The ward vanished and a scream of pain and fury erupted from Inan's throat. Vir tumbled to the side getting as far away from the screaming elf as she could.

The warrior lurched to her feet, swiping at her eyes with the back of her hands. She screamed again. Her words unintelligible, but clearly calling foul. Across the way Vir hunched over, spitting out the remnants of whatever had been in her mouth.

The other elves called foul from the sidelines, taking up Inan's cries of anger. Solas and Lindel entered the ring and met in the center.

"Did you give her a weapon?" Solas asked.

Lindel only looked stunned and stared over his shoulder at Inan. The warrior was no healer, but still she tried to counter the damage with her magic. Her screams of pain and frustration evidenced her failure. "What happened?" Lindel asked. They both turned to the Inquisitor.

"Once upon a time," Vir said, still spitting and wiping at the corner of her mouth. "A guard tried to force me to eat. Had he succeeded in getting a spoon into my mouth, I feared he'd have cracked my tooth. I had to knock him unconscious. If I had died, there would be no one to give you my information." She spat again, this time it was mostly blood. "It's dangerous to eat with a false tooth filled with poison, too much chewing."

"You were afraid I would find it when I healed you," Solas shook his head as everything she had done began to make sense.

"The thought crossed my mind," she said apologetically. "It wasn't meant to be a weapon. It was to ensure that my confinement was temporary."

Solas dismissed her excuses with a disgusted wave. "Is it poison?"

"Yes and it's resistant to healing magic," Vir said. "It will blind her permanently if it isn't countered in time."

Solas nodded and returned to Inan's side.

"No rules were broken, an assassin is always armed," he announced to the audience and knelt beside her. "Concede, Lethallan." He said quietly. "Save yourself. Her life means nothing. Her death means the same."

"The blood of my people demand justice." Inan growled. "I call on you, my second, to finish this for me."

"Point of order." Lindel objected immediately. Solas looked up to find him standing between them and the Inquisitor. "You can still fight."

"She is blind, harellan," an elf yelled from the side.

"And the Inquisitor has no magic and only one arm," he yelled back. "Yet you all conspired to challenge her, banal'mirthadra."

Solas spared a glance for Vir, but she was already running forward. At Inan's growl of fury she shoved Lindel aside. The blast of power lashed out in front her hitting nothing but air. Solas and Lindel escaped the ring to watch the rest of the battle play out.

Vir paced in circles as Inan's magic sought to trap her. She was wounded and tired, but Inan was in worse shape.

"Will you stalk me from the shadows, Banal'ras, biding your time until I am too exhausted to fight back?"

"Yes." Vir said and immediately dove to the side. Inan's magic bombarded her last position.

"I have suffered worse than this. We will see who will outlast whom."

"The counter and treatment is simple, but if you kill me you will lose your eyes." Vir dodged the volley of incoming strikes, but they were measured and no longer the kind of angry bursts required to drain Inan's power.

"The Elvhen do not lack imagination as mortals do." Inan tore a strip of fabric from her shirt and tied it around her face. "I will still find a way to help my people." A blast of fire covered the field expanding from where Inan sat. Vir dove into the flames at the last moment, rolling in the dust to put herself out. She regained her feet once again, but her hair and clothing smoked.

"Perhaps," Vir agreed, "but you won't be what you were. You'll wake up in the dark after dreams of light and the dawn never comes. Those who knew you before will tell you you're no less than what you were. They will pretend you're the same with such urgency that they'll fail to acknowledge your pain. You'll drive them away rather than admit it to yourself."

"I am not you, Inquisitor."

"No," Vir said, "you will live with your choices for far longer than I." She stepped aside, but a new attack never came.

Inan bowed her head. "Choices. What would you have me do? Concede to you and forget all you have done to us?"

"I did what I had to." Vir said simply. "If the Veil falls most mortals will perish. My people will burn. Would you see us all dead when you know there is another way? My people should not be punished for what I did to save them."

"Punished?" Inan repeated incredulously. "Do you think of your deaths as punishment? Yes, I would see you dead, but it would be a mercy. Do you know what it was like when you were given your Dales? We came to see you, to celebrate with you, our mortal kin, our children. The blood of our people ran in your veins. We tried to give you back what you had lost. We shared what we could: our knowledge, our language, our magic, but it wasn't enough. And when we returned, mere moments later for us, we found the ones we knew were aged or dead. We became revered and feared like the ones we fought to free ourselves from. They begged us to grant them the secret of immortality. They begged us to bring back our gods. They didn't understand. We could not give them their world back. We could not give them themselves back. We failed you. Now you ask us to retake our world, to go back to the way we were, and pretend that all is right? You want us to live along side you and watch you die again and again. Can you not see that you are suffering? Do you not wish an end to the cycle of death?"

Solas had never seen Vir speechless before. Had she believed that the lives of her people held no consequence to them?

Finally she spoke, softly as if to herself, "I believed that once. That lasting death was better than pain, but I was wrong. I know that now. This answer... it's a gift. It should not have been possible. It means something." She spoke louder, "It means that no matter what we think we know, things can change if we keep trying. You say you failed us, but my people are proud of what we are, even if we will never be what we were. However brief, our lives are still worth living and as long as we keep living, there is hope. Please, hahren, won't you grant us that chance?"

"Fenhedis," Inan said under her breath. "Shamed by a mere child. Very well," she said loud enough to carry to the assembled elves. "If I concede, what are the terms of my surrender?"

"Let the Dread Wolf save my people as well as yours. Give him your support," Vir said instantly.

"Is that all?"

"Yes."

"Then let it be so."

At her words a flare erupted, showering sparks above the Inquisitor. The golden barrier dissipated and Vir's small group of students ran to her side. Solas moved to help Inan.

The Inquisitor limped forward supported by Lindel and attended by Bishali. "The poison swells the veins around the eyes," she said addressing him. "She needs cold." Solas nodded applying his magic as directed. As long as he did not interfere with the poison directly, his magic could help.

"Bishali," she said to the mage attempting to heal her burns. "Mix two parts thistle and one part witherstalk to counter the poison. It'll keep working until it's neutralized. Keep washing it out until it's clear."

Bishali kept to Vir's burns. Her brows furrowed in concentration. Finally Vir pulled her arm away. "Don't make me do it myself I'll get blood in it."

They worked to save Inan's eyes. As her sight returned, she looked hazily at the Inquisitor who had finally allowed her wounds to be tended.

"You are not what I thought, Inquisitor," she said and Solas knew the statement was for the others as much as for Vir. "In another world we might have been friends."

Vir smiled sadly. "In another world, I promise we were."


	5. Agents

Lindel answered the summons to the Dread Wolf's office. Despite having spent all of his time since volunteering to serve the Dread Wolf's army at the tower, he had never been to that room. The wards blanketing the walls, floor, and ceiling buzzed softly in the back of his mind. The only doorway was at the end of the hall, no crawlspaces above or below. If an army had come for Fen'Harel, this hallway alone was enough to stop them. Lindel wondered how the Inquisitor would have defeated this trap if she had wanted to take the Dread Wolf's life.

He knocked once and entered at the acknowledgment of a voice within. Solas stood behind a large desk, an array of pages with familiar handwriting spread out before him. The map the Inquisitor had drawn was finished and hung behind him. Inan sat comfortably on a large couch placed a little to the side. Her bandaged hands held a diagrammed page, with several others strewn over the couch beside her. They both looked up at his entrance, neither were carrying visible weapons, the wards in the room were inactive.

"Thank you for coming." The Dread Wolf said as he straightened and placed his hands behind his back.

Lindel bobbed his head in response, still uncertain why he was there. "The orb chamber is ready for your meeting"

"We will call the council shortly," he acknowledged. "But that is not why we have asked you here. Would you like to sit down?" He indicated a chair. Lindel shook his head. "Very well, you know that our plans have changed thanks to the Inquisitor. We are no longer here to remove the Veil but alter it in a way that will allow our people a place to live free of its effects."

Lindel nodded.

"Is it true that you were once against this plan?"

He had often wondered if his initial actions against the Inquisitor would be called to task. He had not expected it to take this long, but he was prepared to accept the consequences. "Yes," he said and was pleased that he only stuttered a little. "That's why I attempted to kill her."

Inan did not exactly snort, but the way she swallowed and bit her lip gave the impression that she would have.

The Dread Wolf did not react at all. "I understand. There are many others who object to this change of course. While I am determined to see it through, convincing them will be difficult. Without a united people, rebuilding will be impossible."

Lindel nodded again, trying to guess what this could be about, but neither elder gave anything away.

"You have spent more time with the Inquisitor than anyone here," he said. "What are your impressions of her?"

"My impressions?" Lindel asked.

"Your observations of her personally," Inan said. "What has she told you? What has she said to the others? Somehow she convinced you that she and her kind are worth preserving. What was it?"

Lindel squared his shoulders and looked her dead in the eye. "It seems that sparing my life is a pretty convincing argument. Wouldn't you agree?"

Inan took the blow bravely and laughed. "Well said," she replied.

The Dread Wolf cleared his throat. "If you do not wish to answer..."

Lindel shook his head. "She has two reason for everything," he began and launched into a recitation of their every encounter, including what was said, what he did, and how she reacted. They absorbed the information quietly, only glancing at each other as he revealed her dissection of Inan's plans and her orders for him to surrender if she fell in combat. He finished with their last conversation and her parting words for him before Bishali spelled her to sleep. "You were my second and even though I was victorious, I will never be equal in the eyes of your people. They will ask you to tell them everything you know about me. They'll give you some flimsy reason for wanting the information, but make no mistake, it's a test of your loyalty. Don't argue. Just do it. You owe me nothing." They were quiet for some time after he finished. A bell rang from somewhere in the tower reminding them of the hour. "I have a guard shift," he said. "If you need more information, I can find someone to replace me."

"No. Thank you, that will be all," the Dread Wolf said.

Lindel nodded and took himself out, trying to still his shaking hands and not betray his weak knees. As he closed the door, he heard the Dread Wolf sigh.

 

* * *

 

"Would you have killed me, had she chosen you as her champion?" Inan asked as they waited in the orb chamber for the others to join them.

"Would you have given me a choice?" Solas replied.

She clasped her hands behind her back and paced around the orb where it floated above its pedestal. She peeked out from behind it. "I asked first."

He allowed himself a ghost of a smile. "I would have attempted to force you to concede."

Her gaze fixed on his. "The way the Inquisitor did?"

He coughed breaking eye contact. "I lack her knack for cruelty."

Inan continued pacing. "Harsh for someone trusting her word for the survival of our people."

"I am not," he said. "I have tested and verified the theory myself. Even if she is lying about the way she obtained it, which I have no doubt that she is, the theory itself is sound."

"I see," she said finishing her circuit around the orb ending in front of him. "And what of all she said to me? To young Lindel? Did that ring false to you?"

Solas looked away, his mouth an angry line clamped tight around his bitterness. He shook his head. "I don't understand it. For years all I saw from her was blood-thirst and self-interest. She lied as easily as she killed. Now to hear and see her around our people, you would think it was all self-sacrifice. The best I can guess is that she is whatever she needs to be."

"If you fear her influence over our young ones, perhaps you should warn them."

"Of what, a perspective other than mine? Am I truly any better? Looking at her, its like seeing a corrupted version of myself. All the twisted words and manipulation. The ruthlessness in pursuit of her goals. Just the sight of her is infuriating at times."

"Because she reminds you of yourself? Or because it worked?"

The door opened and the others began filing in.

Solas lowered his voice. "Because the words she said to you rang the truest of any words she's ever said." He turned away and went to his seat, Inan took her place across the room, and the first meeting of the Council of Elvhen began.

 

* * *

 

The orb chamber was the most heavily shielded in the tower and thus the safest place for such a gathering. They held the meeting seated around it in an egalitarian fashion somewhat like a theater with the orb at its center. There was no table for them to sit around and therefore no jockeying for a position at its head.

It was decided by the group that arrived with Inan and the elvhen at the tower that a council should be formed. Solas would still be in charge of securing a place for the people, but their society could not be dictated by one person. At least, not by him. For now, there were ten of them and there would be eleven when Abelas arrived. They were the chosen representatives of the remaining elvhen that had lent their forces to the creation of the new orb.

It suited Solas well not to lead and he would have been pleased except... the discussion had gone for half the day and they had not even touched on seeing to the needs of the people. He shifted in his seat, attempting not to sigh.

Inan sat across the room and covered a smirk with the tip of her finger. Good to her word, she had supported his plans to adjust the Veil rather than remove it, but she was his only ally here. The rest ranged from quietly ambivalent to vocally opposed and that was if they could be brought to discuss the subject at all. A demanding voice drew his attention back to the current discussion.

"The space is not adequate. What about the crystalline trees? What if someone wants to build a keep?"

"Keeps and crystalline trees already, Garas?" Inan said before a new rant could begin. "Do we even know how many of us remain? A head count and an inventory of what the people need will serve us better than speculation about whether there is enough room to build our castles."

"Do you want another war, Inan?" Garas replied undeterred. He had also preserved his people on the outskirts of human civilization. Unlike Inan, he had not lost his fighters to the Inquisition. Though that was mostly because he kept them from any direct fighting. "We must ensure that we have room enough to grow or our people will chafe at their boundaries and seek to expand beyond. You know this."

"What I know is that less than a tenth of our people could have built a keep even at our height. What they need now is peace which requires safety and healing, not crystalline trees," she countered.

"Inan is correct," Solas said. The heads swiveling in his direction indicated that many had forgotten he was there. "However, there will be room for expansion once the first sections are secured. According to my calculations, once we have physical access to the Fade we will no longer be constrained to land on this continent."

"Your calculations?" An elf named Dirtharevas repeated. "While I agree with Garas that our people need room thrive," he said acknowledging the other elf. "The very method of securing this space is still uncertain. You have been very vague as to how the Inquisitor obtained this miraculous information. We have only your word and hers that this theory will work. Some of us have doubts."

Dirtharevas had been a late addition to their forces and Solas had not known of him. He claimed to have spent his years studying the Veil alone. Indeed his knowledge of its inner workings was formidable and his help in crafting the new orb invaluable. When their plans changed he had been critical of the new theory and at first, Solas had welcomed it. Another expert would make his task easier and his conclusions more complete. However, Dirtharevas had shown the limits to his comprehension of the Veil. His arguments had turned hollow and now seemed merely obstructionist. That the man had been a follower of Andruil did not help their current state of opposition.

"How can we trust the source of this information, when he or she is no longer available for questioning? Are we to take the word of someone who cannot even sense the Fade, much less manipulate it? We could all be walking into a massive trap of the Inquisitor's construction. What if this formula of hers is meant to trap us the way you meant for the Veil to trap the evanuris?"

"Are you saying that you believe someone who can't sense the Fade could just make up a spell that would kill us all? Do you think that someone without magic could craft a theory convincing enough to fool everyone including you?" Inan asked before Solas could respond. "Admit it, 'Vas. You can find no fault in the theory. All you can do is nitpick her spelling."

"I have not been fooled, Inan," he replied venomously. "Perhaps your pride cannot endure unless you exalt the one who defeated you, but I will not surrender my honor and duty as a scholar. We must have answers."

"I am healed enough," Inan said evenly. "If my honor is in question, feel free to challenge it."

"Bring the Inquisitor here for questioning," Garas said before that thread of conversation could lead to its inevitable conclusion. "She has been declared equal, her honor tested, she should be willing to answer questions."

"Unless, you still feel she needs protection, Fen'Harel," Dirtharevas said. "I asked to question her myself and you denied me."

"It was not for _her_ protection," Solas said, beckoning an attendant to his side. "Ask the Inquisitor if she is healed enough," he said loudly enough for all to hear. "If she is, tell her that we request her presence to answer some of our concerns."

 

* * *

  
Vir sat behind her desk at Skyhold. The room was exactly as she remembered it. She leaned forward pressing her head against the wooden surface. It had been years since she had dreamed.

"How do you feel?" asked a voice that made her heart ache.

"I'm still alive," she answered and it was true. She was bruised, burned, bandaged, and forced into a deep sleep by her healer friend, but alive.

"Is that not cause for celebration?"

She looked out over the balcony and wondered what the Frostback Mountains looked like without the Veil. She turned and faced the source of the voice. Solas, fully armored and quite transparent, gazed back solemnly. His face held nothing of the careful politeness of his current incarnation, his eyes showed only concern.

"Do you want me to leave?"

She smiled and shook her head. "Never, even though you're not real."

"That is a matter of debate."

"Not this time. Even those words are constructed from here." She placed a finger against her temple. "The real you would never look at me with anything but," she searched for the word. "Scorn," she decided finally.

"You know that is not true," he admonished. "You could tell me the truth. I would believe you, vhenan."

"Maybe. You might believe, you might even understand, but you wouldn't know," she sighed, swallowing thickly, "and it doesn't matter."

"It does-"

"No it doesn't," she yelled, finally allowing her emotions an outlet. She shoved away from the desk. "It doesn't matter because... because I've destroyed everything!" She ran her hands through her hair willing herself not to tear it out in clumps. She started pacing instead. "All these years all these lifetimes. I tried so hard to make things better. I've freed Tevinter's slaves, united the Dalish, destroyed the reeducation camps." She stopped. "But this life?" she gestured vaguely. "I gave powerful artifacts to the worst of the magisters. I gave the Qunari terrible weapons against magic. Do you know what I made Leliana become?"

Solas's ghostly form only stared back at her mournfully.

"And your people..." she whispered. "Inan was my friend once, half of your agents were my friends. Some of them tried to help me convince you."

"I know, vhenan."

"And I just used that information to send them to their deaths," she snarled. "I killed them for... this."

"You saved countless lives. My people were not well after I tore down the Veil. War with the remaining mortals and even among ourselves seemed inevitable. Perhaps you saved us too."

She slumped back into her chair. "This is the what my compromise bought me. This is me 'winning,'" she spat the word as if it were poison. "It would have been better for me to keep trying, to allow our people to suffer forever, rather than settling for this. Now the wars between mortals are worse than before, hatred of your kind has decimated the Clans, and your numbers are less than half of what they were." She lapsed into silence staring at the table where she had spent so many hours trying to find a way to save them all.

"Did you not say that as long as you remain there is hope?"

She shook her head staring sightlessly at the desk. She sighed. "You're right. They may not want my help considering what I've done, but I have to try. I'm just so tired."

He moved closer and made as if to touch her cheek. "I asked you before I tore down the Veil what you knew of sacrifice. You wouldn't tell me, but now I understand. It was your heart."

She smiled at the gesture. "And that is why I can never be yours in this lifetime..." her voice drifted off as something his said struck her as odd. "Wait. You never told me that. Why would I imagine-"

The sound of someone knocking woke her up.

She shook the memory of dreams from her head and pushed off the bed-covers. She tried standing. Having accomplished that she tried walking. Bishali was an excellent healer, but there was only so much that could be healed at once. Vir moved too quickly and her body made its displeasure known. She spent a few moments perfecting her mask of carelessness that implied strength and ability.

She answered the door.

"The Council of Elvhen requests your presence to answer questions," Lindel said. He was not one of the attendants at the meeting, but he was usually the one they sent to speak to her.

She raised her brows. "That was fast," she said, then looked out the window. The depth of the darkness outside was surprising. "Or perhaps I've been asleep for a long time."

"Almost a full day," Lindel confirmed. "Rumor has it, they can't make up their minds about anything. Now they want to question you."

Vir nodded and went back into her chamber to get dressed. It was a slow process, but Lindel did not mention any urgency so she took care for her bandages and made herself presentable. She returned to the door and followed Lindel down the hall toward the orb chamber.

"Your recovery is remarkable," he commented as they walked. "Bishali is a good healer but she's not as strong as Fen'harel or the others. You must have powers of your own to move so well after that fight."

"Powers of lying," Vir snorted. "I feel like I'm still on fire and if someone offers to execute me at that meeting I'll take it. I hope this is over quickly or I might throw up on someone's ancient elven boots."

"Is it that bad?"

"Yes," she answered shortly.

"Then why pretend?"

She shrugged, then winced. "Showing vulnerability encourages attacks. It also pleases those who would see you laid low. I give neither satisfaction nor openings."

Lindel considered her answer. "I can understand that, but perhaps you're thinking about it wrong."

"Oh?"

"No one can challenge you until you've recovered. Further, if you're injured, they would have to keep the meeting short. Bishali could insist on it. I'm sure if we asked, she'd accompany you to keep you pain free. When she's tired they'd have to let you go."

Vir blinked and stopped walking. "So you're dictating my strategy now?"

Lindel turned and stammered, "I'm sorry. I-"

Vir's laugh echoed down the hallway. "I love it. Let's go find Bishali," she said, leaning against him, "and help me walk, because I'm about to die on my feet."

 

* * *

  
They waited in silence for the Inquisitor to arrive. Solas covertly studied the other members of the council. Some of them began to fidget nervously. They were afraid, not of the Inquisitor, but what she represented: mortality and the unknown. They were not the confident, near arrogant, elvhen of his past. If their leaders held such fear in their hearts the outlook for the rest of the people was not optimistic.

They had survived in the Veiled world by hiding in pockets of the Crossroads accessed through a few intact eluvians. There they stayed, sometimes sleeping, sometimes exploring, looking for a permanent home. They ventured into the world only to look for others and to take what they needed. They were neither familiar with the Veil nor were they great mages themselves. They had been reluctant to join the cause as a group, instead allowing individuals to volunteer. Lindel had been among the first.

The door to the chamber opened and all turned to face the Inquisitor. She was heavily bandaged with the healer, Bishali, helping her walk. They sat in a pair of seats provided by Lindel and faced the council. Surprisingly, the healer was the first to speak. "The Inquisitor is not well yet. You have one hour to ask your questions, then she must rest." She did not wait for an answer, dropping into a meditative healing trance.

"Of course," Garas said, "we will not keep you longer than necessary."

The Inquisitor simply nodded and waited.

"Our questions pertain to the theory you have provided," Dirtharevas said. "Who gave you this information?"

"One of my agents."

"Does this agent have a name?"

"He had several."

"Your time is limited, Inquisitor," he said, his irritation plain, "won't you answer the question directly?"

"Ask me one that matters."

Garas held up his hand to quell whatever Dirtharevas would have said. "You claim that your agent was able to devise a theory more complex than the Veil's construction. How could any mortal with your limited understanding and time even begin to comprehend the Veil at this level?"

The Inquisitor shrugged. "Assuming that all mortals are limited to the same degree and assuming that more time than a mortal possesses would be required, it would be reasonable to conclude that my agent was not mortal."

Several in the room gasped at that and silence descended.

"He was one of us?" someone whispered.

"What do you really want?" she asked the assembled elves. "Reassurances that your lives will be better after this? That your people will stop dying? That you will thrive? I can't give you that. If you think that I want you to do this to save my own people, then you are correct. This is the only thing that will stop you from destroying my world. You may be wondering then, what is in it for you?"

"Knowing would be nice." Someone muttered, though it was impossible to tell whom.

The Inquisitor smiled. She picked one of the quieter elves called Dorf. "If the Veil falls, the Crossroads will be sundered again and the results will be unpredictable. There are pools along the ways closest to a temple of Ghilan'nain where your people find peace."

Dorf's eyes went wide. "How did you know?"

The Inquisitor smiled, but did not answer, instead she continued. "The pools avoided destruction the first time, but they may not survive a second. I know that you can build whatever you imagine in a world without the Veil, but it will not be the same. Starting over from nothing is so very difficult. With this theory, the refuge you built for yourselves will remain. Perhaps, you will be able to join them to your new homes."

Dorf looked warily at the others, then cast her eyes downward. "Perhaps that would... be better."

She moved her gaze onward. She did not bother with Garas, Solas, Inan, or Dirtharevas. Instead she focused on the others and one by one revealed bits of information that her agents had obtained for her. Each time offering a reason their people would benefit from keeping the Veil in place. Some were impressed more than others, but her arguments were persuasive to all and implied she held a greater understanding of their people than any of them could have guessed.

She glanced at Bishali and it was obvious that the healer was beginning to tire. "I've said everything I have to say," she concluded. "I cannot promise you that this will work. You wouldn't believe me if I did. All I've been asking is that you try." She cast her gaze around the entire room, but Solas felt her words were meant for him. "You can always destroy the world later." She reached out and touched Bishali's arm, the girl woke from her trance and Lindel helped her to her feet. The small group made their way out of the chamber, not bothering to wait for permission to leave.

The doors closed and Garas and Dirtharevas immediately began yelling. Solas suppressed another sigh, Inan hid another smirk, and the Council of Elvhen began their discussion again.

 

* * *

  
In the end they voted. It was a symbolic act at best. Solas was the only one who could tear down the Veil and if he refused the others could do little about it. It was fortunate then, that the vote went his way, six in favor to four opposed. With that small piece settled, they adjourned. Perhaps the next days-long meeting could actually get to the business of helping their people.

It had been months since Solas last wandered the Fade for something other than study. The need to understand the notes and theories provided by the Inquisitor had dictated his every moment. Now that he was comfortable with his knowledge, he felt he had earned some time to rest.

The Fade surrounding the tower was silent. He had warned the spirits to leave when he prepared to take down the Veil. While the overall effect of its removal would be positive for them, proximity to the nexus point would have had unknown effects. He did not want to see his friends harmed, so he sent the spirits he knew away and they had not yet returned.

He was surprised then to hear music as he paced the stone hallways. Music had not visited the tower in centuries and this particular music never before. The sound was unique, a melody more ancient than the instrument that played it. Curiosity drove him to find its source.

Solas found himself in the Inquisitor's room. Far more richly appointed than the way it was now. It was empty of occupants, but song drifted in through the window. A moment's thought and he was on the roof standing behind a chimney. It had been artfully crafted to look like a dragon breathing plumes of smoke into the night sky. The Inquisitor sat at the edge, leaning against a gutter drain carved into the shape of a wolf. She hummed softly to herself as she plucked out her tune.

It was not strange that she did not notice him, but it was odd that he had found her. While they opposed each other, he had tried to use the Fade to locate her, but she was never there. Once, he had waited for days in an attempt to find her, but not even a whisper of her dreams had reached him. He began to believe that her only connection to the Fade had been the Anchor. With it gone she was truly as bereft as the Tranquil. He was about to step onto the roof beside her when she began to sing.

It was a dalish lullaby adapted from an old poem that had once held vastly different meaning. She segued directly into another song, the one her people called Suledin. He found himself sitting in the shadows listening in rapt fascination. On she played without pause, it seemed she was playing every song she knew, even a few avaar hymns and one in a language he did not know. The final melody came to an end.

"Are you going to come out from there?" she asked, "Or must I resort to bawdy tavern songs?"

He stood, guiltily and stepped into view. She said nothing as he joined her on the ledge. Up close, he expected her to lose some of her cohesion as was typical of a dreamer who was not a mage, but her image remained surprisingly sharp. Even her left hand was precisely as it should be though it was a touch softer at the edges than the rest of her.

She stared up at him with a half smile on her face. It was an odd expression, not unpleasant, but he could not be certain how aware she was of her surroundings.

"Do you play when you're awake?" he asked unthinkingly.

She looked startled as if she only just recognized him. "I don't have an arm when I'm awake," she replied. The lute and her left arm disappeared.

He winced at his carelessness. "I apologize-"

She waved her stump dismissively. "It's alright. I'm used to it." She hugged her knees to her chest. "So... is the council meeting finally over or did you fall asleep in the middle of it."

He smiled at that. "The meeting is over for now. You did well. The majority of the council has voted in our favor. We will save both of our worlds."

She looked out into the dreamscape to hide her expression. She shivered then exhaled rapidly. "Good," she said, looking back at him. "Because I'm running out of tricks."

"I find that hard to believe," he said with a chuckle to soften his words.

She grinned back at him with a look of relief so profound she glowed brighter. "My agent told me that if I lie in the Fade you would know. He told me that conjuring even words from imagination alters the environment and that you can feel it like the wind changing directions."

 _Her agent_. Solas had suspected that the agent had been elvhen, but the revelation during the meeting had left him with questions.

"What do you know of me?" he asked

"You?" She seemed surprised.

"You revealed some of your insights into the concerns and desires of the other council members, but not me."

"I would hope I didn't need to convince you."

"You do not, but I am curious of what your agents learned of me."

She opened her mouth to speak then closed it. She tried again. "I don't actually know that much about you, personally. Most of it was only things you've told me yourself and you were careful never to give me an advantage." She laughed with apparent embarrassment, but he only waited. Her smile faded. "You don't allow anyone close. You prefer the company of spirits over even your own kind. We aren't real to you, but you don't want to hurt us more than necessary." She shrugged. "You don't like tea."

"What made you believe that I would help you?" he asked, recalling the boldness with which she demanded an audience when she first arrived at the tower.

"Hope," she replied.

"You mean your agent," he said remembering the name she had given him.

She chuckled. "He insisted that you would listen. That all I had to do was show you that there was something about the Veil you didn't know and you would stop the passage of time to learn it."

Solas sighed and took a seat on the ledge. He could not be angry with that assessment despite the sting of its accuracy. "Why do you keep his name a secret? His theories will save both of our people. Would he not wish credit? Would he not want to be remembered as the hero of this time?"

"Would you?"

The question surprised him. He shook his head. "I am different."

"Not so different. You aren't doing this for glory, neither was he."

"How did you find him?"

"I met him when I still had the mark. He saved my life. Like most of your people, he was suspicious of me and ... well he hated me at first." She grimaced. "I have that effect on people."

"What changed his mind?"

She shrugged. "He caught me doing something good for once. It was so incongruous with my character that I went from enemy to curiosity."

"I can relate to that," he said.

She snorted. "Eventually he understood what I was trying to do. He didn't like my methods, but he knew what was at stake. I don't know when I went from curiosity to friend or why."

"Do you not? You have had a similar effect on my people here."

She smiled wanly. "I suppose."

"Tell me about him," he asked, "as much as you can."

She shook her head, but when his eyes met hers with a silent plea, she relented. "You know he was elvhen and a talented mage. He believed in the right of all free thinking beings to exist. Though his assessment of 'free thinking beings' was different from mine." She gave him a pointed look and continued. "He was against slavery of any kind. He felt terrible guilt for the mistakes of his past and sought to right them as much as he could." She stopped talking then and Solas guessed that she was finished.

"I wish I could have known him. He would have been a powerful ally."

She laughed then, though he could not understand what was so funny. "I don't think he liked you very much," she said finally.

He scowled. "Is that why he did not bring me these theories himself?"

She sobered and looked at her empty hand. "No. If he could have told you himself he would have. I wish he could be here."

His irritation disappeared. "I am sorry," he said. He watched her studiously examine her fingernails. Looking at her in the Fade was different. She seemed so sharp and real here. Not even the dreamer mages among mortals appeared to him as she did now. The thought that she seemed real was unsettling. "Did you love him?" Though he could not say what possessed him to ask.

She finally looked back him and for a moment her eyes conveyed a look of grief and loss and longing so powerful it unbalanced him. Then it disappeared, a thin smile touched her lips. "Nah," she said.

The lie was so violent it woke them both up.


	6. Friendship

Vir stared at the sketched outline of a slain dragon. The rotunda was the place she loved best in all of Skyhold. Not just because of the man who spent his time there, but because it was the only place that looked different in each lifetime.

She had avoided the place in this final life. The air of her heart's disapproval coupled with his painted scenes of fire and blood were more than she could bear. She did not want to remember that rotunda, so she sat in another surrounded by wolves and fields of victory. The place brought her comfort despite knowing that the choices in that life had led to the death of every friend she had ever known.

"Why would you lie to him?" Solas's image asked reproachfully.

She was not surprised to see him in this place. If she were honest with herself, she was hoping her dream of him would come, but she was out of practice with honesty. "I didn't want to talk about it."

"Now you're lying to me," he accused as the walls rippled and changed to a different version of themselves. "You're afraid. Afraid to let him know you. Afraid to ask for something you don't believe you deserve."

"I don't," Vir said with a shrug that was not at all indifferent. "I'm a monster. I don't deserve anything. Not love and not him. Especially not him." She looked up at his expression and regretted her words immediately. She had never wanted to be the cause of the pain she saw in his eyes, even if it was just an image that was all in her mind anyway.

"You always thought too highly of me," he said quietly.

"Not you. Him. The Veil may have destroyed your people, but you created it to save them." She sighed. "Tearing it down though, even when you knew the cost. You sacrificed us anyway. That was..." Monster did not encompass what it meant for him to do what he did. She could never bring herself to put a name to it. She still could not.

"I know," his memory said.

She nodded. "But him. He didn't know. He still doesn't know, but he's trying to save everyone anyway. He has not done that terrible thing. His life can be different. It doesn't have to be tied to mine anymore."

Solas shook his head. "If our plans succeed, his life will be what it was. Pursuit of a distant wisdom while ignoring the truth as it stares him the face."

"That's not true."

"It is. You are not the only mortal I encountered in Thedas, but I did not see your people for what they were until I met you. I gave Corypheus the orb knowing there would be a massive explosion. I followed him to the Conclave and waited at a safe distance. The explosion killed thousands, but at the time the only thing that went against my plans was that Corypheus survived." He laughed bitterly. "Unfortunate deaths, but ultimately unimportant. I didn't know them. They weren't real. They didn't matter. I only realized the truth because I was so fixated on the one who bore the mark that I finally paid attention."

"And here I thought it was because I was pretty."

He smiled, but it didn't last. "You know that I would not want to live in ignorance. You don't have to love me, but could you... help me?"

The walls shifted again, her emotions eroding her control of the memory. Fire at the Winter Palace. Templars and the circles restored. A river of blood ran through the halls of the Chantry. Change brought by force and daggers behind words, lies and manipulation were king. She closed her eyes against the vision of the world she had guided into being, but it was her dream and it did not stop her from seeing. "Why would my imagination be telling me to do this?"

"Because you always were a true friend."

She lost the vision entirely and found herself floating in the darkness of the Fade. It was the eluvian spell, the place she spent years adrift in dreaming death. Solas was still with her. "It hurts," she said.

"I know, vhenan. I'm so sorry."

She wanted to say no. She wanted to say yes. Instead she simply woke up.

Vir sat up in bed, rubbing at the headache that was forming between her brows. She ignored the protest of her joints and the call of her comfortable blankets and padded barefoot to the desk in the corner of the room. She lit a candle, picked up a quill, and settled a sheet of vellum in front of her. With a curse for the Dread Wolf, she began to write.

 

* * *

 

Solas was irritated, but he could not quite pinpoint the cause. That irritated him as well. The Inquisitor's lie had forced him awake, an act that should have been impossible for someone like her. It was strange. The whole encounter was strange. He had never found her before, he had never heard her sing before, he had never seen a mortal so clearly in the Fade before, and none of those were the reason for his irritation.

The lie had hurt. He did not know why.

Compounding the deceit of mortals was the incomprehension of his own kind. One of his own kind at any rate. Dirtharevas had been to his office no less than five times that morning. Apparently since the council had been formed and they were both on it, the man had decided that they were equals and that meant he could interrupt Solas's work whenever the urge took him. Each time he thought he had found a fatal flaw in the spell that would adjust the Veil. Each time Solas would explain the part that he had misunderstood and how his calculations did not apply.

At least his irritation with the mage distracted him from his irritation with the Inquisitor. At least Dirtharevas was trying. The man wanted so desperately to understand so that he could help. Solas had been the same when he was younger. He remembered hounding the spirits to explain things, to show him the secrets of the Fade. Wisdom would have laughed at him now.

The thought of his friend and her likely fate drew another swell of irritation at the Inquisitor. He wondered if she could ever understand what she had done. Would she even care? She had fought for the lives of her people while negotiating with his own, but spirits? She had never cared for "demons" except to find better ways to kill them. Despite briefly holding the mark, her kind could not grasp the world beyond the Veil. He wondered at the wisdom of allowing them to remain.

Still, her words to Inan had resonated with him. If there was value in her kind and a way to preserve it, he would try. He just wished he could see it. Instead, he closed his eyes attempting to visualize the spell that would be the foundation for their new world.

Someone knocked on the door.

He crossed the room to answer it, yanking the door open expecting to see Dirtharevas again.

"What is it?" He snapped.

"Oh," the Inquisitor said, stepping back. "I'm sorry," she said hiding something behind her back. "I'll come back later," she said and retreated further at the expression on his face. "Or ... never."

Solas sighed. "No, it's fine. I thought you were someone else. What is it?"

"I..." she revealed the object she had been hiding. It was a hand-bound book. She held it out to him. "I wrote this for you. It's just..." Her words died under his stare. She handed it to him mutely.

He took the book and leafed through the pages. _Surface Dwarves and the Remains of Their Caste_ , read the first chapter. _The Merchants Guild and the Carta_ , read another. He raised a brow at her before continuing. The Sha-Brytol, the Shaperate, Orzammar's ruling class, descriptions and sketches of various Thaigs including one on the surface, and an entire chapter each for Bianca Davri, Varric Tethras, and Arcanist Dagna.

"You wrote me a book about dwarves?" he asked doubtfully.

"What I've learned of them in my travels. Notes mostly," she said. "You once told Varric that because dwarves don't dream, they're lost to you. I thought this might help since you don't seem to know many of them." Her words faded out again. "It was probably a foolish idea. You don't have to read it." She reached out to take it back.

"No," he said, shaking himself from his surprise and holding it out of her reach. "This is fascinating," he said as he thumbed through the pages. "I... did not think you paid attention to anything I said while we were in the Inquisition."

I smiled ruefully in reply. Then she bowed her head, turned, and walked away. She did not give the impression of hurrying, but she was gone before he remembered to thank her.

He looked down at the book, both bemused and intrigued. Dirtharevas appeared at the end of the hall with a sheaf of papers and a determined expression.

"Ah good, you're not busy," he said as he strode forward.

Solas looked up then back down at the book. "Not now," he muttered absently, turning away before Dirtharevas got to him. He did not hear the man's squawk of indignation as the door shut in his face.

 

* * *

 

Vir's original sparring group had been a handful of elves who had never seen combat. Most, like Lindel, while clumsy at first were quick learners. The only reason for their ignorance was that their previous occupations had been far outside the physical realm. Even when the Veil was created, they were protected by their people and set to other tasks. They could have learned to fight, they just had not gotten around to it yet. Long ago, Vir would have been incredulous at the idea of taking centuries to even begin to learn something. Now she realized that for those with time on their side, priorities were simply different.

After Vir's duel with Inan and her testimony before the Council, her little class had grown. More of the elves at the tower appeared during sparring sessions as their duties permitted. These elves were not beginners, many were looking to test their mettle against someone who fought differently. She suspected some of them were spies for those on the Council who opposed the new plan.

The Council concerned her when she took the time to think about it. She did not know which members were simply resistant and which were malicious. She could dig deeper, but she was in enemy territory, allowed to stay as a guest by a host who still questioned the wisdom of doing so. She would have to tread carefully. She had now lived longer than she had ever managed before and everything that happened from this point forward was entirely new. Every morning brought the excitement of possibilities and the terror of the unknown. Despite that, very little managed to surprise her. Mostly she wondered if anyone would try to kill her today. She felt safe enough in her belief that the other elves would not wish to anger their host. Still, she preferred to avoid surprises.

Inan appeared from the side entrance, wearing practice armor and looking for someone to spar with.

"Do you have room for one more?" she asked.

Vir considered the taller elf for a long moment. They had been friends many times before. In the past, she would have trusted Inan with her life. Now, despite her pledge, she knew Inan could never forgive what she had done.

"I hardly need to train you," Vir replied.

"True," Inan agreed. "Actually, I came to volunteer. I could not help but notice your new students. While I'm sure you're equal to the task," she said. "You do seem a little," she abruptly stopped what she was about to say.

"Short handed?" Vir finished for her.

Inan maintained her expression, but the corners of her eyes crinkled. "I wouldn't expect you to train all of our people... singlehandedly."

Whatever this version of Inan had become, she still had the same sense of humor. Terrible. Vir laughed at the groans from the students that had been listening to the exchange. She picked out a practice weapon and introduced the rest to their new instructor. Some surprises were not bad after all.

 

* * *

 

After that day, Inan would show up to help train the others. With her there, the students could learn and practice combat magic. She was a good instructor, but she had also come to learn. Inan would often study the way Vir fought, making note of her counters and likely her weaknesses. Vir could guess the reason, but so far all Inan had done was watch.

Today had been busy for attendants and guards. Several groups had been sent to secure small areas where the Veil altering spell would be anchored. There were no students to teach so Inan and Vir sparred alone.

"Now that we are not working against all of mortal-kind," Inan said as she began the bout. "Do the humans still hunt us?"

Vir dodged, ducking under the attack. She swept out her leg as she came up behind the taller elf. Inan liked to hold a conversation when she sparred. It was partial proof that she was not exerting herself. "Probably. They always have." Vir fought at half her usual speed to keep her part of the conversation steady. She wondered if that was her opponent's intent as well.

Inan avoided the leg sweep and parried the follow up attack with the haft of her weapon. "What about your campaign against us? Do your allies still see us as a threat?"

"No," Vir said and was glad she could answer that honestly. "For the most part the human nations were never in open conflict with you. Some knew what they were fighting and why, but most were never directly targeting you." She feinted to Inan's weak side.

She faltered and failed to counter, but Vir did not press the advantage. "Truly?"

"Do you think humans would believe me? Do you think they would go to war against a myth on the word of an elf?"

Inan recovered, making a complicated flurry of attacks. "Then how did you get them to fight us if they had no reason to?"

"I gave them a target they couldn't resist. When they encountered your people they did what they could to keep it from your grasp." Vir backed slowly across the yard, retreating instead of attempting to counter.

"The artifacts," Inan whispered. "Those were the true targets. If we'd withdrawn, they'd not have pursued." 

Vir would not let her take responsibility for something she could not have known. Not when Vir had used that very ignorance against her. She dodged under the next swing as the taller elf was distracted by her regret. The chest stab she executed barely dented the leather surface of Inan's padded armor, but the shock of it was enough to draw her away from her self-recriminations.

"You were not the primary objective," Vir reminded her after a furious exchange of attacks. "Few people believed that the elvhen could even exist, much less be any kind of threat. However, they rarely pass up an opportunity to kill elves. It was not difficult to manipulate them even though they never believed me." She continued pecking away at Inan as they circled each other. They were barely hits, just firm taps that reminded the woman that she was getting sloppy. Nevertheless, each tap made her angry.

"And we all danced to your tune just as they did. Were you even trying to kill us?" she asked.

"No," Vir said as she let several obvious openings pass, using the time to catch her breath instead. Inan was trying to bait her, but Vir's life had been spent patiently waiting for the right moments to strike. The warrior changed tactics, attacking viciously. Vir avoided each swing with a minimum of movement.

"But you reveled in it, didn't you?" Inan growled. The end of her practice weapon hit the floor of the sparring ring sending up a cloud of dust. The air crackled, though she had not used any magic. "You sent messages to your allies gloating of our losses. We broke the key to those messages."

"I know."

"You know," Inan said and her weapon came down again. She paused. "You wanted us to know."

"Yes," Vir said calmly.

Inan's cry of rage might have had magic behind it.  Vir raised her prosthetic, catching the wild energy and absorbing it without taking any damage. They fought grimly for a time, saving their breath for what was no longer a sparring match. Their weapons were blunted, but could hardly be considered harmless. Vir continued to chip away at the taller elf, letting the woman's rage exhaust itself.

Frustration bubbled past Inan's lips as Vir neatly dodged her attacks again and again. "Why?"

"I know you cherish each other. Some of our clashes have left little else but sundered ground and charred bodies."

Inan flinched. Her people had gone after an artifact only to be met with a massive explosion. Inan had only survived because the blast had thrown her into a river. The woman Vir had known would have searched for them forever, holding out hope that they had been captured or somehow survived the way she had.

Vir nodded. "I knew that without confirmation you would never stop looking. Sending messages the way I did informed your people without arousing suspicion from my allies."

Inan examined the answer for only a moment before rejecting it. "No," she hissed. "You destroyed our kind to save your own. Not even your own. Humans. Humans that kill your Dalish as willingly as they kill elvhen. Humans that enslave and sacrifice us to add to their meager powers. Your kind still die by their hands. You've done nothing to save them. Do not pretend you had a good reason for what you did."

"You asked for my reason and I gave it. I don't claim that it was good. I have no illusions about what I've done and I know what I am. I know the fate of my kind is less than secure. All I did was buy us time."

Inan stopped her attacks altogether and stood facing Vir in the middle of the sparring ring, white knuckled and out of breath.  "But your actions have helped the worst of humankind. Couldn't you have found another way?"

"I didn't think so at the time. The solution I brought here was a direct result of my terrible acts." Vir shook her head. "Tell me what I could have done to convince you all to stop."

Inan looked as if she wished to argue, but could find nothing to suggest. She put her weapon down, red faced and exhausted. Vir looked the same as she had at the start. "How is it that twice now you've made me feel like a child?"

Vir shrugged. "I'm older than I look."

Inan snorted. She put her weapon away and made her way to the exit. She paused before she reached the door. "Tell me truly. Was all of this worth it?"

"I don't know yet," Vir said. As unsatisfying as she knew the answer to be, it was the only truth she could give.

It would not be the last time Inan used a sparring match to work out her grief, but gradually she seemed to make peace with Vir's role in the destruction of her people. She even pulled the blows that managed to land. Most of the time.

 

* * *

 

Abelas had waited weeks for a response to his entirely vague field dispatch that described his losses. What he received instead was a message recalling him to the tower. He asked for confirmation twice. His forces were searching for signs of what remained of their people. They were only to return to the tower after the Veil’s removal. Apparently, plans had changed, but they were promised an explanation when they arrived.

He gathered what remained of his scouts and began the long journey north. He wondered where the Inquisitor had gone after their encounter. For someone who had exerted considerable pressure against their efforts to remove the Veil, her presence in the Brecilian forest had seemed out of place. Perhaps she had not known how close they were to succeeding.

At last he reached an eluvian that would shorten the distance to the tower. It was relief to travel through the crossroads. Though danger was still abundant, the closeness to the Fade was invigorating. With high spirits and more than a month of travel, the tower came into view. The forest sentries watched them pass. Acknowledgment of their right to be there was simply the act of allowing them to live. He did not know them personally. He did not know any of the elves that the Dread Wolf had gathered to him, but they were like him and for now it was comforting enough to know that his people lived.

Despite his losses, his mission had not been a failure. Before their capture, his scouts had discovered several pockets of the crossroads that led to more of his people. They were still locked in slumber, but alive. Still, he searched for faces he recalled from before and found none.

They took a side entrance that led to a practice yard rather than entering through the main hall. He had heard that some of the people still held with the hierarchy of old. They were fools for thinking that anything of their past glory was relevant. He wished to avoid fools.

There was a small group of elves watching a pair of women spar. The smaller one lacked an arm and it was with great surprise that he realized who it was.

"Inquisitor," he said, inadvertently speaking aloud just as she began her attack.

The sound of his voice distracted her opponent who spun to face him. "Sulevin?" It was a name he had not heard in a lifetime.

"Inan?" he said and the rest of the world fell away.

All this and the Inquisitor was still mid-strike. She aborted hastily, but only by twisting mid-air and landing in an ungraceful heap. Neither he nor Inan paid any attention.

Arms that felt like the home he had forgotten wrapped him in an embrace that crushed the air from his lungs. Sulevin was no longer his name, but for the moment the name Abelas could not be further from the truth.

 

* * *

  

"Inquisitor," Abelas called, as he caught sight of the diminutive elf carrying a stack of papers to the tower undercroft.

"Abelas," she said, slowing her steps until he caught up.

"I need to speak with you. Privately."

"In here," she said as they reached the door to the forge-room. Combat had ceased for the Dread Wolf's army. The place where armor and weapons were crafted had seen little use since the Inquisitor arrived. The room was empty, but the forge, powered by magic, never went cold. She stoked the fire until the roar of it would mask their lowered voices. "Best I can do," she said.

Abelas had revised his opinion of the Inquisitor several times since she had first breached the sanctity of Mythal's temple. She had followed the rituals and shown respect for the old ways. She negotiated with his people to avoid bloodshed. She resisted the Well's temptation. She stopped the blighted magister from destroying the world and forced the savage Qunari from the crossroads.

He had been told the horror stories of facing her as an opponent. No doubt, she was deadly, but she had earned his respect even before their encounter in the Brecilian Forest. When he had made his oath to her there, he had intended to honor it as he would to one of his own. He did not realize it would become a burden to keep.

"I need you to release me from my oath," he said.

She narrowed her eyes. "Why?"

He straightened his already rigid posture. "You saw me in the training yard with Inan."

Her lip twitched, but she did not smile. "Yes."

"She had read my field report. I only vaguely mentioned the circumstances under which I lost my scouts. She paid it no mind at the time, but then she did not know the name Abelas." He paused, struggling to find the words to describe his quandary. "She lost her own people in the field. She shared her sorrow with me. She asked if I wished to do the same."

The Inquisitor guessed the rest. "And keeping your oath means pushing her away?"

"Yes."

She frowned. "Couldn't you just leave me out of it and tell her you're sworn to secrecy?"

Abelas shook his head. He had not wanted to discuss this part of his history, but he had already committed to having this conversation. "More years ago than I can count, I made an oath that took me from her. A relationship cannot survive the centuries with so many secrets in-between." He searched her face for a sign that she understood. By her stricken expression, it seemed she did. "Time passed and we parted ways. Even without the Veil we were not likely to meet again. That we are both here now, after all that's happened... Do you not see? If we are to move forward together through this new world, there will be no secrets between us."

Vir gazed at her boot and shook her head. "Well, shit," she muttered. Her smile was pained when she finally looked up. "Could you ask her to keep it to herself? There's more than one reason I asked for your silence and I don't want people getting the wrong ideas about me."

When he had first made the pledge he assumed her reasons for secrecy had to do with revealing her location. Apparently, he was wrong. "Such as the idea that you are the kind of person who would fall on your own face to avoid harming a sparring opponent?"

She tried looked offended, but she could not keep the amused twitch from her lips. "Do you want me to release you from your oath or not?" she threatened.

Abelas bowed his head in contrition. "Please."

"Fine," she said with a sigh. "Do I have to wave my hand around?" she asked wiggling her finger nonsensically, "or do we need some kind of ceremony?"

"We could have a ceremony that would announce the end of my oath and the reasons for it," he said solemnly.

Vir made a rude noise. "I liked you better all solemn and dour. Go away, Sully. I'm busy."

"I will not be choosing that as my new name," Abelas said with dignity and took himself out. His expression never changed, but his step was light as he climbed the stairs. He would find a new name eventually, one that matched a soul unburdened by sorrow and duty.

 

* * *

 

"Are you even listening?" Dirtharevas asked, his exasperation clear.

"Hmm?" Solas said looking up from his book. They were in his office along with several other council members attempting to find the solution to their latest problem. "Apologies, Dirtharevas, I was distracted. Please continue."

"These devices," he said, waving at the large globe shaped artifact in the middle of the room, "that you claim will aid in measuring the Veil are inaccessible to our scouts without risking further hostilities from human settlements. Elves are held in higher suspicion than ever before and as we do not know their precise locations we cannot send a single agent to activate them. Nor can we send search parties greater than three to search for them. We would be picked off by bandits, city-guards, or overzealous farmers."

"I agree," Solas said.

"I believe I have narrowed down the number of devices we will need to pinpoint our anchors," he stood and approached the map behind Solas's desk, scrutinizing each location. "If we could send scouts individually to search in a more targeted fashion, we could minimize our risks."

"Hmm," Solas replied.

Dirtharevas sighed and looked over his shoulder. Solas was looking at his book again.

"What are you reading?" Inan asked from her place on the couch she shared with Abelas. They sat an arm's length apart, but the distance did not fool anyone.

Solas looked up from his reading. "It's a book about the people of Thedas. I recall precisely where all the devices were when the Veil was constructed. I had hoped that analysis of the human settlements would aid me in narrowing down their location."

"Has it?" Dirtharevas asked.

"It has," he confirmed. "Also, if I travel to each region I will be able to sense the devices within a certain range. I believe it would be best if I searched for them myself."

"Absolutely not," Dirtharevas and Garas said in unison.

Solas's expression never changed, but the air hummed with an energy that was almost physical. It disappeared after a heartbeat, but the two men subsided uneasily. It was an unsubtle reminder that they would not and could not control his movements.

"You are capable of defending yourself, true," Garas said, more mildly than he had objected. "You have also traveled alone for most of this endeavor, but while we are all committed to this new path, only you can it see through. Risking you for a mission that could be handled by scouts is not good strategy."

"If it could be handled by scouts, we would not be having this conversation," Solas reminded him. "I see no other way to locate the devices without losing more people." The group mulled over his words in silence.

"Fine," Dirtharevas said finally, his voice resigned. "But you really should not travel alone."

Solas would have answered, but a knock interrupted his response.

"Come in," he called.

The Inquisitor slipped in quietly. If she was surprised to see such a large gathering, she did not show it. "I apologize for the interruption," she said bowing to the other council members.

She crossed the room, walking past the dormant device. She had noticed it, of course, but her gaze did not linger on it. She handed him another book. He forbore looking inside it and she did not divulge its contents in front of his guests. He placed it on a shelf next to similar books. She bowed to the room again and turned to leave.

"A moment please, Inquisitor," Inan said. "Have you seen that kind of device before?"

The Inquisitor walked around the object, inspecting it thoroughly. She gave Solas a hard stare before she turned to answer Inan directly. "Oh, yes. They're everywhere."

 

* * *

 

"You cannot trust her," Dirtharevas said after the Inquisitor left. It turned out the Inquisitor's remarkable knowledge of Thedas applied to the devices as well. She was able to describe most of the areas where the devices were located. "What if she left traps nearby," he continued. "What if she left them under guard. According to her, some of them are in the heart of human settlements or even the strongholds of her allies."

Solas had already known that would be the case, but the Inquisitor's knowledge of the devices gave him an additional option.

"I'll bring her with me," he decided. "They do not require magic to activate. She could get to them without being detected or simply negotiate with her allies for access."

Dirtharevas simply sputtered at that. Garas took up the thread of the argument. "Are you not concerned that she would try to kill you?"

"Why would she do that?" Solas asked. "This plan is as much for her benefit as it is for ours. She would not sabotage herself."

"She is an opportunist," Dirtharevas said finding his voice. He clasped his hands together, a habitual motion Solas had come to recognize in him as a sign of distress. The man was genuinely worried. "Coming here was her only chance to stop you. This solution may have been a compromise because she could not find a way to defeat you directly before. But alone on the road in her own territory is completely different. Do you really think she would help us if there was nothing for her to gain from it? Have you forgotten how happy she was to destroy us at every opportunity?"

Inan and Abelas exchanged glances.

"I will go with you," Abelas said, speaking for the first time. "My people and I will provide an escort."

"And I as well," Inan said.

"Hasn't anyone been listening?" Dirtharevas wailed. "A group that large would be attacked."

Abelas held up his hand, "Peace. We need not be with him the whole time. We can travel the ways as a group and stay hidden near human settlements just as we always have. We will be close enough to offer support, but no one will ever know we were there." He turned and addressed Solas. "I will not stay here, my task must continue. I will search the crossroads for our lost people. I can do that while guarding your back."

"We should put this to vote in the Council," Dirtharevas said stubbornly.

"No," Garas said, surprising everyone, especially Dirtharevas. "This is not about the direction of our people, 'Vas. This is their choice. We can give them arguments, we can plead, but we cannot control their lives."

"It is good that someone recognizes that," Solas said.

Garas chuckled and flicked one of his long braids over his shoulder. "I wish you luck, Fen'Harel, but know this. If you fail, we will have no choice but to continue down your first path. You have lit the flame of hope for our people to reclaim our world. It will not end here."

"Then I have already succeeded," Solas said.

Garas rose from his seat, nodded to the rest, and left. Dirtharevas sighed worriedly, but followed soon after, still shaking his head.

"Well," Inan said when they were gone. "I suppose someone should ask the Inquisitor if she's willing to go on this dangerous mission. I mean, I'm certain she would love the idea of facing the humans she's manipulated for the past decade, but she might say no." 

Solas blinked at her from behind his desk. For some reason, the thought had never occurred to him.

 

* * *

 

Vir had said yes to venturing into human territory to activate the necessary devices. Inan had not seriously believed she would say otherwise, but she had hesitated when she was told who else would be traveling with her. Inan suspected that she and Abelas were not the cause.

They sparred alone again today, having sent the students back to their duties. It would be the last class for some time until they returned from their mission. Inan signaled a stop. They were both tired and Vir sagged where she stood, trying to catch her breath.

"How do your allies feel about us?" Inan asked using magic to replenish her energy. Vir was too tired to even mutter about cheating. "They believed your warnings about the Veil. Do they know that they are no longer in danger?"

"I sent the Divine a message before I came here," Vir answered. "I told her that I had a chance to end our conflict peacefully. She'll tell the others."

"And she would just trust that your silence meant success?"

Vir's mouth twisted bitterly. "She would know if I failed."

"And that's it?" Inan asked. "They would not want revenge for their losses?"

"They are better people than I am," Vir said confidently. "They may have been my allies, but they all questioned my methods. To be perfectly honest, if not for his deceptions the other members of the Inquisition respected Solas greatly. I was the only one constantly at odds with him."

"And yet you came here believing that he would help you."

"Yes," Vir acknowledged.

"And now you work to aid his efforts. You train our people in methods that could be used against your kind. You put your faith in the man who would have destroyed you."

"Yes," Vir said again more slowly.

"And now he spends his idle hours with his nose buried in a handwritten book about the Avaar. Before then it was the Vashoth settlers. Before then something else. There are so many, he designated a shelf. He's never been so interested in something outside the Fade before. Your work, correct?"

Vir hesitated. "I thought that he should know more about us. If your world is going to exist beside ours, our people's paths may cross again. I hope that future encounters between Thedosians and elvhen are not as antagonistic." She paused, "If we manage to stop killing each other first, I suppose."

"I see," Inan said. "Still, I am surprised at how many tomes you've written in such a short span. You must spend every free moment creating these gifts." She raised her brows, inviting a response, but Vir said nothing. "If I didn't know any better," she said, smiling innocently, "I would say you were courting him."

Vir choked. "N-No. I am not," she denied, which only served to widen Inan's smile. "I just thought he should... Does he think that?" she asked, her expression horrified.

"I don't know. Should I ask him?" Now she laughed at Vir's expression. "I can see by your face that I would not be safe in my bed if I did so. I will keep my observations to myself," she promised. Vir's mouth opened and closed and no sound emerged. "It is good to see that you are not unshakable," she had planned to continue along that vein, but when Vir remained frozen she stopped. "It's been a long time since someone teased you hasn't it, Lethallan?"

"A lifetime," Vir finally managed.

Inan took her practice weapon and Vir's and racked them both. She turned to the smaller elf and threw an arm around her shoulders. "Come then. We'll find a bottle of wine and I'll tell you how to seduce the Dread Wolf."

"Please don't," Vir begged, but allowed herself to be steered back to the tower.

Inan ignored her request and began detailing all the things that elvhen appreciated in general. She spoke at length about courting customs and traditions. She went on to tell stories about a much younger Fen'Harel and his supposed exploits. By the time they located a bottle of wine, Vir could not drink fast enough.

 


	7. Allies

Vir slid a roll of hand-drawn maps into a waterproof tube. She hardly needed them to remember where the devices were located, but she would provide them to Inan and Abelas. Several of the artifacts were located near human settlements that had been loyal to the Inquisition and it was safer if she activated those devices alone. The maps would let them know where she was going.

A part of her was glad for their company. She doubted Solas would want to travel with her alone. Still, how the pair truly felt about the plan was uncertain. Inan had pledged her support and for the most part it seemed genuine, but Vir had only asked that she help them try. If the results did not meet the needs of her people, it was not unreasonable to believe she would consider her oath fulfilled. Vir would do her best to see that never happened.

There was also the matter of Inan's interest in her personal life. Apparently Solas had not shared the nature of her relationship with her "agent." Thus, Inan thought Vir's interest was in him, which was not exactly wrong, not that Vir wanted to explain it.

"I wish I could go with you," Lindel said from the doorway.

Abelas's lost squad-members could not be easily filled from the scouts of the other councilors and some of his people were still recovering from their journey. Inan suggested that the students she and Vir had been training be allowed to volunteer. Vir insisted that they be tested first and only the ones who were ready would be allowed to join.

"You're not ready," Vir said, her smile apologetic. "You still wince when you need to hit someone. A bandit or soldier won't hesitate to use that moment to kill you."

"I know," he said quickly, "and I agree, I just... wish I were ready."

"Card and Bishali would kill me if anything happened to you and neither of them flinch when they have to hurt someone."

Lindel snorted in disgust, he crossed the room and picked up the blanket she had set aside for packing and rolled it into an efficient bundle. "I'm four hundred years older than both of them and they treat me like a child sometimes. They're just afraid to be alone together. Without me to play referee, they'd never stop fighting."

"Referee," she repeated, "is that what the ancient elves call it?"

Lindel almost dropped the blanket. The many relationships of the elves who had gathered at the tower was an ever changing, slightly complicated, web of power dynamics, alliance, and romance. Despite that, some had formed more permanent bonds, like the three who had become her friends. Vir did not press the subject, returning her attention to her maps instead.

"Did you know about us before you came here?" Lindel asked. "I mean all of us not just me and- I mean-"

He stopped and started trying unsuccessfully to rephrase the question.

She took pity on him and interrupted. "No. To be honest, I didn't know anything about you or anyone in the tower except Solas. I'd never even heard the name Dirtharevas until I arrived."

"He came late," Lindel supplied. "He just showed up one day and started talking about the Veil. He said he wanted to help."

"And Solas just made him an advisor?" she asked dubiously.

"He knew more about the Veil than anyone except Fen'Harel, which was surprising for a priest of Andru'il. In any case, the Inquisitor," he stopped and shook his head, " _you_ had already countered too many of the Dread Wolf's plans. Dirtharevas helped him to locate several artifacts and gave up his own foci to use in constructing the new orb."

"Ahh," Vir said.

"He doesn't like the new plan," Lindel continued. "He keeps trying to find ways to prove it wrong. He spends all day locked up in his suite constructing models of the new spell."

"And you know this how?" Vir asked.

Lindel expression soured. "He used to act like he was one of us. He worked on the new orb with Fen'Harel, but he ate with the attendants and he didn't ask for special treatment. Once the plans changed, he stopped coming to meals, asking something be brought to him. It got worse once they gave him a council seat. Now one of us is always bringing him meals or running errands for him. Sometimes he'll have one of us take notes." He lowered his voice. "There's a rumor he was trying to summon a spirit once."

Vir's eyes grew wide. "He didn't try to bind it did he? Solas would never stand for that."

"No," Lindel said, shaking his head, "I don't think he was successful, but what could he want with a spirit here that he couldn't get out of it in the Fade?"

Vir rubbed the back of her neck uneasily. "I don't know and that's not my expertise. Should I tell Solas?"

Lindel shook his head. "It is just a rumor. Some of the others are irritated with his demands. I didn't see it myself."

"I wouldn't want to make false accusations," Vir mused. "Especially since he's so outspoken against me. It might look like I'm retaliating."

"True," Lindel agreed. "Should I keep an eye on him?"

"You?"

Vir had stopped packing during their conversation. So far, she had only the single blanket and the tube of maps. Lindel began moving around the room opening drawers and the doors to her wardrobe.

"I could volunteer to assist him," he said, pulling out a stack of clothing similar to the one he had first given her. "I could see what he's up to."

"I won't ask you to spy for me, Lindel," she warned. "In fact you shouldn't be spying for me even if I don't ask."

Lindel crossed the room and opened a chest that held several larger travel packs. He tossed them on the bed next to the stacks of clothes. "Then I won't spy for you. I'll report everything I see to the Dread Wolf," he said. "Besides, if he has good intentions someone should help him. He's... he's like me sparring with you. He wants to be useful, but I don't think he realizes he's out of his depth with this spell."

"Aren't we all," Vir said, contemplating the mage. She was more accustomed to mages who craved power or sought to harm her by force. Dirtharevas was just so... earnest. "Well, if you don't think you'll run into trouble, it's not as if I can give you orders and-" She paused only now realizing that Lindel was packing everything in her possession into the leather bags. "What are you doing?"

"Packing for you," Lindel said. "You have to leave soon and you haven't even started."

"I'm not taking all of that." He continued bustling about the room ignoring her protests. "Lindel stop, I have to travel lightly, I can't carry that." The bags had already reached a ridiculous size, but he kept packing. "I couldn't carry that if I had two arms." Lindel selected a few books, some paper, and writing implements. He packed them into the bag that held the maps. She shook her head. "That's ridiculous."

Lindel hoisted all of them onto his shoulders. "You're not going to carry them."

"Well you're not going to carry them," Vir said, "and I'm not asking someone else to."

"Of course not." He looked at her as if she was the one being unreasonable. "Most of it will stay on the..." a look of understanding dawned on his face. "Oh, you haven't seen."

"Seen what?" Vir asked, still confused.

"Come on. I'll show you. The Dread Wolf got them working." He staggered a little as he settled the weight of the bags more evenly, but he headed out the door without any trouble.

"Got what working?" Vir called after him. She gazed around her now empty room.

"Come on!" Lindel's voice echoed up the stairs. She had little choice but to comply. He had all of her things.

Vir followed Lindel from her room down three flights of the twisting staircase to the ground floor. She usually exited toward the practice grounds, but instead they turned toward the entrance and the other side of the tower where she never wandered. The main entrance was where most of the other elvhen came and went and she never felt entirely comfortable there. A large eluvian had been activated and Lindel walked through without pausing. Vir followed, surefooted after years of practice using the devices, but at the sight that greeted her on the other side she stumbled to a halt.

"That's... an..." she trailed off, her voice failing.

"Aravel," Inan finished for her. "Well, these are aravellathan to be precise. They are meant to travel as a fleet." She appeared to be carrying three times as much as Lindel without any difficulty.

Ethereal red sails undulated in the fadetouched breeze. The proud masts topped goldwood boathouses that floated several feet above the ground.

"Fen'Harel restored enough for the whole group. Each houses two comfortably and up to ten by necessity," Inan said and continued past Vir. She set her bags into one of the floating boats.

"It puts the Dalish ones to shame doesn't it?" Abelas said, from behind her. He had just arrived through the portal and carried nothing but a pair of cloaks which he handed to Inan.

"A halla need not feel shame because it can't fly like a gryphon," Vir replied, too in awe to even feel offended. "Envy perhaps... but not shame."

"Well said," Solas said quietly, coming up behind her. "If there is shame to be had for the loss of knowledge, it should be mine." Vir glanced at him and for a moment, his face was shadowed by sorrow.

Vir resisted the urge to return to gawking. "I didn't mean..."

"I know," he said and his expression eased. "I had been marshaling my power for the Veil's removal. Now that we have an alternative that requires less," he nodded toward her, "I felt we could spare some to make our task easier. I restored these vessels to help with Abelas's search for our people. If we find any, this will make transporting them much faster." He actually smiled. "Come, you are sailing with me. I hope you are not prone to seasickness, this will be quite similar."

"Me too, I don't want to miss a moment of this."

Lindel followed them to the aravel designated for Solas. In the distance Vir could see the others were already waiting on their ships. Lindel placed Virs packs next to the ones already there. From what Vir knew, Solas traveled as lightly as she. She was relieved to see their packs were equal in number and size. She threw her arm around Lindel's neck in thanks and farewell. He gave her shoulders a squeeze, blushing furiously, and hurried back through the eluvian.

Solas climbed onto the floating ship and offered his hand to help her up. Vir accepted it and climbed onto the rail. She was pleased that as she dropped down onto the deck, her steps were steady despite the rise and fall of the ship.

Vir inspected the little boathouse, it held a common room for storage, study, and food. She found a hatch in the floor that led to two little rooms meant for sleeping, each about the size of a small bed. She investigated the whole ship with a smile of open delight. It only faded a little when she caught sight of his expression.

"Alright, what's that face mean?" She asked, curling a lock of hair behind her ear self-consciously.

The little smile he had been wearing broadened, "I do not believe I have ever seen you surprised until this moment. Not when you closed the first rift, not when Corypheus appeared. You took all the world's ills in stride. Yet this link between the memory of your people and the history of mine brings the light of a child to your eyes."

She looked around again, shaking her head, still in awe. "Well, if anything in this life can surprise me, it is you."

"I was by no means complaining," he clarified.

"Neither was I," she reassured him.

The small wonder of the ship could not make up for the horror she had visited on the world, but for first time since she had arrived at the tower, Vir was glad she had survived.

"Keep talking," Inan yelled from her ship, interrupting the moment. "Maybe your breath will move the sails."

Vir made a face in the woman's direction. A flash of Inan's white teeth was all Vir could see, but something about the tilt of her head and the angle of her shoulders was both knowing and infuriating and altogether too pleased with herself. Solas chuckled and closed his eyes. The small fleet moved off on its course.

 

* * *

 

The Inquisitor had been content to sit at the front of the ship gazing out over the floating islands of the crossroads. Solas sat atop the boathouse on a seat meant for the navigator. Each ship could be steered individually, but it was easier for a single mage to coordinate the entire fleet. Not far from him Inan and Abelas sat together enjoying the voyage just as Vir did. Inan pointed at something in the distance and Abelas used the opportunity to bring her hand to his lips. Would they have found each other in the aftermath of bringing down the Veil? There was no way to be certain and it was one among many reasons Solas was glad for the new course they had set.

"Solas," the Inquisitor called. She looked up at him, but pointed at something port-side. "I think I recognize this part of the crossroads. Can we stop over there?" The area in question held a small stone arch, a broken eluvian leaned against it.

Solas nodded and stopped the fleet. He signaled to Abelas that they were making a detour. His ship peeled away from the rest and made its way to the arch. Vir leaped down when they were close enough, not bothering to wait for him to stop or to use a rope. She killed her fall with a short roll in the overgrown grass and slipped behind the broken eluvian.

She obviously knew where she was going, but once again Solas was surprised that she was familiar with this particular place. Their last encounter in the crossroads had not been nearby and as far as he knew, even his own people never came here. He waited patiently, if he was going to trust her to activate the Veil artifacts he may as well start now.

Vir returned before he could grow anxious, but had taken longer than he expected. He caught sight of something protruding from her left sleeve and understood why. She had stored her gear behind the broken eluvian at some point before approaching the tower. On her right arm, she carried a pack that held a variety of prosthetics. On her left, she wore a grappling hook.

She grinned up at him and the hook launched from her arm to the ship. It caught lightly on the rail and pulled her up.

"Two hands," she crowed, as she climbed onto the deck. The hook returned to her sleeve and she stored her prizes with the rest of their gear.

While at the tower she had only used a makeshift dagger prosthetic and even then it was only when she was sparring. It never occurred to him that she would miss her tools or that she thought of them as hands. She never once complained, but she looked so pleased to have them, he forgot to ask how and when she had hidden them.

Solas guided their ships to an eluvian that would take them as close to their destination as he could manage. Most of Abelas's people would stay and scout the area while remaining near enough to come to their aid if necessary. Solas, Inan, Abelas, and the Inquisitor would continue on foot.

The journey through the forests of the Hinterlands was not difficult, unlike the first time he had been to the area. The fighting had ceased and the land had begun to recover from the rifts. The Inquisition had seen that there were no demons left to terrorize the area. Even the bandits that had once harassed the residents had been ruthlessly captured and pressed into service as laborers. Solas had held some reservations regarding the practice, but he could not help but appreciate the benefits of the policy now.

They traveled for most of the day until sundown and set up a well hidden camp far enough from the trails that they were unlikely to be disturbed. The Inquisitor would wait until full dark then continue alone to the first device. She claimed it was hidden in the cellar of an abandoned farmhouse.

The tent they brought with them was large enough for four, but Inan suggested they sleep in shifts for safety. It was a thin and entirely unnecessary excuse. Vir made a noise of disgust worthy of Seeker Cassandra and shooed Inan to the tent where Abelas had already gone.

Vir settled in front of the tiny campfire, using the time to check her weapons. Her current prosthetic was very like a rudimentary hand. She could manually manipulate three of the articulating fingers to hold objects. It was simple but effective and allowed her to hone her dagger without the awkward use of her knees or feet. She had not said a word since they stopped to retrieve her things and he was hardly one to interrupt her genuine enjoyment of their journey to make idle conversation. Now they sat preparing for the mission in companionable silence.

Almost silence.

The pair in the tent were attempting to be discreet, but they were not succeeding. Solas flicked his wrist sending the smallest amount of magic necessary toward the tent. The silencing ward enveloped it and the sound of activity within ceased.

Vir closed her eyes and smiled. "You are the finest mage I have ever known," she said gratefully.

It was his turn to snort.

"Clever beyond compare," she continued. "A spell like that would have been nice on the road years ago. There was quite a lot of activity in the tents."

Solas had rarely been invited to accompany the Inquisitor as she sought to expand her power. "Really?"

"Oh yes. Sera, the Iron Bull, even Blackwall a few times. After we pass through a town, some starry eyed farmer or barmaid would come wandering into our camp. Sometimes they were told where we would be, but other times they would actually track us down." She chuckled. "I would take first watch somewhere far enough away to escape the noise."

"Was it that bad?"

She shrugged. "It would go on for a while, then eventually Cassandra bellowed for quiet. She got her way usually, though once Sera answered by making even more noise. I think that time she was just messing around and the girl she'd been with had already gone home." She smiled fondly at the memory.

He doubted he would have risked casting such a frivolous spell. His time as a mage in the Inquisition had been perilous even without the ire of the Inquisitor, but he hesitated to mention it. "I doubt any of those three would appreciate a spell being cast over their activities, no matter how well intentioned," he said instead.

"You're right about that," she mused. "I suppose that's why neither Vivienne nor Dorian ever tried it," she said and lapsed back into silence. The only sounds in the camp were the soft hiss of the honing steel against her blade and the occasional crackle of the fire.

Solas closed his eyes and examined the area. He could not sense the device from where they were, but the patterns in the Veil indicated that something very old lay dormant in the direction she would travel.

When he opened his eyes again, Vir had completed her gear maintenance and now held a knotted metal object about the size of her fist. Each knot seemed to be a different kind of lock. She was practicing lock picking with one hand in the dark.

Solas recalled one of the trainers Leliana invited to Skyhold had given her something similar. He claimed it contained the most difficult locks ever built in Thedas. She defeated it in under a minute and told him to make a better one. She had not been kind, exactly, but the trainer had been well paid. The man made it a point of pride to create something she could not open. By the time Solas left Skyhold, he had settled for something that could slow her down.

Solas thought back to the people who had made the Inquisition a world changing organization. Vir had treated everyone with the same level of detached arrogance that veered into cruelty when they disagreed with her. She got along well with Enchanter Vivienne and Leliana, but both of them understood the rules of the Game and were more than willing to play it. Others like Blackwall, Cassandra, and Sera had more difficulty adapting to someone who was willing to destroy anything to achieve her goals. In the end, however, even they could not argue with results.

He had gotten to know the members of the Inquisition, both core and auxiliary, quite well during his time there, but it was only through observation and the rare conversation. He had not traveled with them and thus was excluded from the camaraderie they obviously felt for each other as a result.

It had been deliberate. Everything the Inquisitor did was deliberate, but he could find no reason for it. He was not the only person who had spoken out against her actions, though to his knowledge he was the only person at Skyhold she had assaulted. That dubious honor was his alone, yet here she sat, perfectly willing to accompany him into danger. Nothing like what she had been before.

"Why?" he asked.

Her gaze flicked toward him, the soft clicks of her lockpick continued.

"Why did you exclude me from your missions?"

Vir frowned, they had assiduously avoided conversations about the Inquisition, but he could not let things lie if he wanted to understand what had happened and why and she had opened the door by bringing it up.

"You hated every decision I made," she said, putting her lockpicks away. "You mocked the Dalish. You never hid how you felt about me."

"Could you blame me?" he asked. "I was an elven apostate among Chantry devoted humans. They tolerated my presence out of desperation. But you, you were given power they never granted to an elf and at the first opportunity, you restored the Templars." The words he had held back out of caution tumbled from his lips. "You were cruel and not just to me. You lied for no apparent gain. Even your handwriting was false. It went beyond reason."

"I had reasons," she said firmly.

"But was it necessary?"

"Was giving the orb to Corypheus necessary?" she asked.

The question stopped him cold. She had struck the heart of his struggle. "I thought so at the time, but I didn't know," he answered. "I thought you couldn't... that you weren't..." he faltered, "I didn't know and I never learned. I looked to you, the one who held the mark, the closest to what I could understand of a mortal." Her deceptions had influenced his perception of her people and he could not help but hold her at least partially responsible for his continued ignorance. What he had almost done without even knowing, he could hardly bear the thought. "I can't help but wonder how things might have been different..."

"If what?" she asked. Her voice had taken the careful tone he had come to recognize as presaging fury. "If you thought we were people?"

"Yes."

"So you think that if I were better," she said throwing the metal puzzle into her pack. "If my kind were better, that we would have earned the right to live?"

"You didn't need to be _better_. You only needed to be exactly as you are," he said, gesturing at her. "Not the cruel and petty thing you were. Which version of you is real?"

She chuckled bitterly. "What does it matter when you don't even think I'm real at all?"

"But I do," he said without thinking. The words gave him pause, but they were true. "You are not what I expected and neither are your people. I don't understand you, but I do know that destroying your world would have been a terrible mistake."

She stared at her empty hand. "I don't know which is worse, you believing you would have changed your mind because of me or that the fate of all of Thedas depended on your opinion of one broken elf's character."

"I did not _want_ to hurt your people."

She did not reply for some time and he could not see her face. Her hand balled into a fist so tightly it shook. It was only when she looked up that he realized she was crying. "What does wanting have to do with it?" she asked through gritted teeth. "Do you think that knowing us would have mattered? Do you think you would have just given up on your plans if I played nice and stood by? What do you think you would you have done, Dread Wolf?"

"I..." he faltered, struggling with a question he had not had to confront. "I would have found another way. I would not take the lives of one people to save another." She stared at him in disbelief and he wondered how she could trust him to save them while believing him capable of such an act.

"Do you really believe that?" she asked.

"Yes," he said with more certainty. He was no monster, despite what she thought. "Knowing that you and your kind could be real... it changes everything. It has to. If I thought I was capable of such a monstrous act, I would not be able to live with myself."

She looked stricken then and his words were met by another flood of silent tears. She looked away, some inner turmoil resolving itself silently. When she turned back the anger was gone and only sorrow and a terrible guilt remained.

"I see," she said after a few attempts to compose herself. "Then I was wrong about you and all that I did and all that we lost was for no reason at all."

Solas opened his mouth to object.

"No," she said and stood. "It's good, Solas. You keep believing that." She picked up her pack and turned away.

Her open display of emotion followed by that concession caught him off guard. "Vir," Solas said, finding his voice. Though a familiar word, it formed oddly on his lips. Had he never called her by name before? He stood and walked toward her.

"It's full dark," she said. "I should be back before dawn. If I'm not, move camp north and I'll catch up." She plunged into the forest shadows before he could respond, but even if he had tried there was nothing he could say.

 


	8. Allies (pt 2)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I broke up the Allies chapter into two parts. This might feel like a bunch of leftover scraps, but they were too important to cut.

  
_Stupid, pompous, blind..._ Vir thought as she strode away from the camp. _He thinks knowing would have mattered. He thinks he'd have tried to find another way._ She tried to stay angry, but her eyes kept blurring until she was forced to stop walking. _He thinks..._ Her shoulders shook and even she could not tell whether she laughed or cried. _He thinks exactly what I wanted him to think. Fuck._

Vir turned her thoughts to the task at hand. Solas never told her everything about the devices. They measured the Veil, certainly. They strengthened the Veil, possibly. Whatever else they could do was a mystery and so in this lifetime she had done what she could to keep them away from him.

She had told Solas the device was in the cellar of an abandoned farmhouse. She did not tell him that she was the one that moved it there. It used to lay exposed in the rubble of the building. When the Inquisition expanded its power, she claimed the farmhouse and built the cellar to house the artifact. She had not been to the place in years, but it was owned by someone who had been loyal to the Inquisition and in any case, she could sneak down to the cellar and activate it with no one the wiser. That was the plan until she ran into a wall.

A ten foot wall that ran the perimeter of what had once been nothing but farmlands and pastures.

She reminded herself that they had brought her along in the event that access to a device would require negotiation. It was a situation she had hoped to avoid, but at least the people here had been loyal to the Inquisition. Diplomacy was worth a try.

She circled the walls, keeping to shadows, until she reached the gate. She stopped when she heard a pair of men speaking, guards most likely. Their accents were local and they spoke loudly and freely. They were not expecting any real threats.

"You fallin' asleep there?" one said suddenly. "Still got half a shift left."

"Don't see why we need guards anymore," the other said. The sound of keys and armor jangled loudly as if he were attempting to shake himself into alertness. "Haven't seen a sign of demon or bandit in years."

"We're not wary of them," the first one replied. "We're watching for elves."

Vir froze.

"Elves? We got elves in town."

"Not them. Mostly not them. Nah we're watchin' for different elves. Scary elves." The last was voiced in an undertone.

"Yeah?" the sleepy one said. "What these different elves look like?"

"Well, they're tall, they've got marks everywhere that glow, they can pass through walls."

"You been reading Tale of the Champion again?"

"I'm serious. They're out there."

Vir did not wait for the rest of the conversation. She slipped back the way she came until she found a place where she could scale the wall. She went up silently and came back down in a dark corner behind a large shed.

The area inside the walls had changed as well. The farmhouse that had once been a small outpost for the Inquisition was now a barracks and sat squarely above her artifact.

Vir crouched beside the shed, assessing her options. She could slip into the barracks if she could create a distraction that would get most of the occupants out. She was about to move when the door to the shed swung open and the person who had been inside almost stepped on her.

They were young, a stable-hand perhaps, probably sleeping on the job. She struck before they could make a sound. She did not kill them, but the encounter forced her hand.

 _Diplomatic. That's me._ Vir thought as she dragged the unconscious youngster out of sight.

 

* * *

 

Solas turned back toward the fire and found Abelas standing behind him. He had come just within range of the firelight, Inan a little behind. He did not know how long they had been standing there.

He went back to his seat, reviewing his last conversation. She was real, they all were. His mind turned over this new paradigm. The words of his old friend haunted him. _They're stronger than you think._ He had not believed. He had not wanted to. He shut his eyes as a wave of regret washed over him.

Inan and Abelas broke out some field rations, quietly preparing three servings without consulting him. Abelas handed him a plate without comment. Solas accepted it, mechanically eating the porridge-like substance. It reminded him of Vir and what she had been served when she first arrived at the tower. It was not bad, but not something even a prisoner should endure for the length of time she had. She never complained, but then she had other motives.

She always had other motives.

He frowned at his food, at the fire, at the couple who sat across from him where Vir had been. They ate side by side without speaking, without touching, but between them was an air of satisfied intimacy that he found grating for no reason at all. He turned his scowl back to his food before his companions could mistake his mood for disapproval.

Time passed and eventually Abelas took the plate from him. He and Inan turned to maintaining their gear. Solas waited, searching for signs of the artifact activating. It was a test of sorts, but not a very good one. Would failure mean she could not be trusted? Would success mean that she could?

"Do you believe she will return?" Solas asked.

The pair looked up from their work. "Do you sense trouble?" Inan asked, reaching for her weapon.

"No," he replied, waving her back to her seat. "What if she simply chooses not to?"

"Why would she do that?" Inan said, smiling sardonically. "Aside from the fact that you called her a monster and blamed her for the near annihilation of her own people."

Solas ignored the jab. "She could bring back an armed force. There would be no need for a lengthy solution when she could simply kill me now."

"Then there would be no solution for our kind," Inan reminded him.

"Do you believe that we matter to her as much as the safety of her own people?"

"Yes, I do," she said, tilting her head. "Don't you?"

That was the question. He sighed. "I don't know. Sometimes I forget who she was. I want to believe that it was all a mask and that the person helping us to build our future is real. Then I remember that if she manipulated me so easily before, she could still be doing it now."

"To what end?" Abelas asked, joining the conversation. "If she intended your death, this is certainly a circuitous path."

"She could not have killed me while I was at the tower."

Abelas and Inan exchanged a meaningful glance, but neither spoke.

His brow furrowed suspiciously. "Alright. What do you two know that I don't?"

"How to accept change and move on," Abelas said.

"How to speak without insulting your friends," Inan muttered.

"The touch of a beautiful woman," Abelas added, leaning toward her.

"Aww," Inan reached out and touched his cheek.

Solas sighed.

They exchanged another glance.

"She asked for my discretion fearing that others would get the wrong impression," Abelas said apologetically. "But I am certain it was you that she would have kept this story from."

Solas narrowed his eyes.

Abelas hesitated for a moment then continued. "I do not know if this will make you trust her more or less, but it may help you to make up your mind."

 

* * *

 

Master Dennet was accustomed to being roused in the middle of the night: a mare in foal, a sick horse. Just before the Breach, it was always the mage war. During the Breach, it was always demons. For him, it was all the same. He woke at the first knock and got out of bed without waking Elaina.

He looked through the window as he made his way down the stairs. Whoever knocked did not have a lantern. The gate boys made no signal either. He opened the door cautiously and peered into the dark. No one was there. He closed the door, turned around, and found himself face to face with Inquisitor Lavellan.

There were rumors about where she had gone and what she had done after the Exalted Council in Orlais. Each story was bigger than the last, but she looked much like the last time he had seen her. Her left hand was gone. Her right hand was empty.

"Did you kill anyone to get in here?"

She shook her head. "They're not dead. It wouldn't be polite."

He crossed his arms, this was still his home. "Polite usually waits to be invited inside."

She raised a brow. "I didn't want to be mistaken for one of those elves you're guarding against. The ones that pass through walls."

"Pah," he said, disgusted. "Berin's been reading Tale of the Champion again." He sighed. "I'll have a talk with them in the morning. I take it that's not what this is about."

She shook her head.

"Have a seat then."

She sat stiffly at the small dining table as he lit some lamps. She watched him as he moved around the kitchen, making tea.

"Your odd friend likes to hangs near the stables," he said conversationally. "Not inside, mind, but just nearby 'round the back. I leave him be, but maybe you can encourage him to go elsewhere."

He handed her a steaming cup. She nodded thanks, but did not drink it. "Is he causing trouble?"

Dennet shook his head and sipped his tea. "More like one of them fool stable boys are going to try to ride him. Last one to make that mistake at Skyhold got his head cracked open on the pommel of that sword."

She grimaced. "I'll see what I can do." She looked around the living area and out the window.

"When did you build all of this?" She seemed surprised, she must have been out of contact for some time.

He followed her gaze proudly. "Been planning it since you went to that council in Orlais, but we didn't get much of a start 'til earlier this year. Got word from the Divine that we'd won. Most of us that helped the fight got rewarded, but the Divine didn't want us getting complacent. More prosperity requires more security. She sent us some trainers, had us recruit guard from the locals. It gives them something to do until the crops come in at least."

"Leliana's work." She seemed pleased. "That sounds about right."

"She still keeps tabs on us that were there. I can pass along a message."

She nodded. "Tell her my negotiations were successful, but it's better for everyone if they don't know where I am. For now at least."

Dennet crossed his arms. "That parts easy. They said you were dead."

She cracked a smile. "Which time?"

"Every time."

She chuckled very softly. "What else are they saying?"

"Some say you joined the rebel elves. Some say you made a deal. Some say you died and we're all one bad night away from dining with demons again. What's the truth?"

"Perhaps a little of all three," she said. "I don't know how much you knew of what we were fighting." She made it a question.

"Magic," he replied. "S'always magic. I don't need to know more than that."

She nodded. "Alright. We found a solution, a compromise."

"They say you don't compromise," he said skeptically.

"They also keep saying I'm dead."

"True. Fine. Why are you here?"

"There's something magical here. I need to activate it. It's hidden on your lands, beneath your barracks. I promise it won't harm you, but I need to turn it on and I need it to stay on."

"Or else?"

"The compromise may not work and the world gets closer to dining with demons."

"Put it that way, I'd be a fool not to help."

"I hoped you'd see it that way. Your people will probably never notice it's there, but if they find it, you tell them to leave it alone."

"Right. I can do that."

They sat quietly for a time. He drank his tea, she warmed her hand with hers.

"Dennet..." she began hesitantly. "I may not get another chance to say this. I'm sorry for what I did to get us here. I made a lot of decisions that were difficult and... I..."

"Sorry?" Dennet repeated. "Have you looked around? The farmlands are safer, the village is prospering. I didn't like what you did with the bandits, at first, but then I heard you were releasing them after a year's work with pay if they didn't cause more trouble. Most've'em were grateful to have a job. All of 'em were grateful to not be dead."

"Huh," she said not looking at him.

"I can't speak for the rest of the world, but you did right by us and I've never seen you mistreat a horse. I've got no quarrel with you."

From the day he met her, her eyes had held the weariness of the warrior kings men like him had only read about, but now there was something else there. "You may be alone in that Dennet, but thank you."

Dennet held her gaze for as long as he dared. "If my daughter were sitting there looking like that, I'd ask her which boy hurt her."

Her smile was wry, but appreciative. "Your daughter only cares about horses, Dennet."

"Hah," he cackled. "Truth. Probably why I've never had to ask. Now, how're you going to get into the barracks. I take it you don't plan to march in plain in front of the boys."

She stood and stretched. "I took care of it. If they ask, just send them further out."

A few minutes later someone pounded on the door. "Master Dennet?! You alright in there? Someone attacked Max down by the shed. We've got an intruder!"

"I'm alright," Dennet answered. "So's Elaina. Think I saw some lights down by the blacksmith. Round up the boys and check it out."

The alarms rang out and torches were lit. Men poured out of the barracks forming parties to search the area.

Inquisitor Lavellan bowed her thanks and slipped outside.

 

* * *

  
Vir hurried away from the barracks. The secret entrance was intact as was the artifact. The device had turned on, doing whatever it did just as she remembered it, but only Solas would know if it was truly working. She supposed she would find out soon enough.

She got back over the wall without incident, despite the fact that more lights had come on. She circled around toward the massive stables, keeping alert for more of the watch. She could just make out the sound of sleeping animals when a large figure blocked her path. An ordinary traveler might have been terrified by the sight, but Vir smiled at her old friend.

The bog unicorn paced forward and sniffed the air suspiciously. She lifted the sleeve of her shirt, revealing her stump. "It's got lyrium inside," she said softly. "It makes me smell different."

It approached cautiously and sniffed her hair. Then its long, dried tongue reached out and brushed her ear.

"Yuck," she said pulling away. It rattled a whickering laugh, its breath smelled of dried leaves. "Come on," she said heading further away from the stables. "I kicked the wasp's nest and I don't want to stick around. You can walk with me."

The horse blocked her again and turned, presenting its side. It was trying to get her to mount.

Vir made a face, "You don't have a saddle," she protested, "and you are literally a sack of bones. There's no way."

The spirit within the beast flickered and its skeletal hooves stamped. Then it reared back on its hind legs and cried an equine scream that would be heard far beyond the stables. The wind carried the shouts of the guardsmen and the torchlight in the distance grew brighter.

Vir stared in astonishment at the horse. "You little shit," she said.

The dusty laugh was more spirit than horse. With a curse, she grabbed its bony neck and leaped astride its back. It wasted no time and sped away.

 

* * *

 

 

Vir arrived at the camp an hour before false dawn. She dismounted a short distance away, not wanting to explain her strange companion. The bog unicorn seemed to find this amusing and disappeared back into the brush.

Solas had gone to sleep. Inan and Abelas welcomed her back with a pair of identical nods.

"I take it you were successful," Inan said.

Vir nodded tiredly and took a seat in front of the fire. She rummaged in her pack for a cup and a packet of tea leaves.

"You should sleep. First light is soon," Inan said, watching her make the brew.

"After this," Vir said absently.

Inan caught her gaze as she raised the cup to her lips. "Coward," she said.

Vir looked at the concoction that would keep her from dreaming. "It's kept me alive."

"Your cowardice or the tea?"

"Both," she answered, but did not drink.

Inan crossed to where Vir sat and took the cup from her tired fingers. She dumped the contents into the bushes behind them. "I told you to take him to your bed and show him your true self." She sighed dramatically. "But no, you insisted on writing books."

Vir covered her face with her hand. "Please don't talk like that when he's around." She shook her head. "Or ever really."

Inan only helped her to her feet and propelled her toward the tent.

The interior was more spacious than its exterior suggested. Vir suspected magic, but she was too tired to admire yet another small wonder that had been lost to her people. Solas was fast asleep on one side while her own bedroll was laid out neatly on the other. She crawled into the blankets and found that someone had placed a warming spell on it. Fatigue and the unexpected comfort conspired to addle her wits further. She had no time to even wonder who had done it. She fell asleep almost instantly.

 

* * *

 

 

Vir found herself in the rotunda at Skyhold again. She stared at the very first version of the walls Solas had painted, wondering if she could have guessed who he was from the beginning. Wolves were certainly a theme, but the idea itself was too far fetched for the small world she had lived in. Solas appeared beside her. She studied him for a moment before concluding that he was not the real one.

"You know," she said after sitting in silence for a time, "he's right next to me. If he ends up here and sees you, that's going to be difficult to explain."

"Difficult to lie about, you mean," he said.

"Same thing," she said.

"You have to tell him the truth."

"He wouldn't be able to live with himself. Besides," she said shrugging, "he never did any of the things I remember. It wasn't him."

"That's because we made it so that he wouldn't have to and yet he thinks you are the monster."

"He's not wrong," she said.

"Master Dennet does not think so."

"Master Dennet is one man in one place. I've killed hundreds personally and sacrificed thousands more."

"It was necessary."

"Does it matter?" she asked. "Are we defined by intentions and goals or actions and outcomes?"

"Both."

"Then the terror I've caused cannot be washed away by, 'it was necessary,'" she said. "Isn't that why you couldn't bear what you had done? We were both monsters, Solas." She looked down at her hands comparing the conjured one to the one she still retained. "The ends don't justify the means."

"You said that only applies if you fail. You haven't this time."

Vir looked up. "When did I say that?" she asked, but Solas was gone.

Vir scanned the room, but she was alone. Then the paintings on the walls shifted as a stronger presence altered her surroundings to what he remembered.

Solas appeared in the doorway. He glanced around as if he were expecting to see someone else.

"Solas," she acknowledged.

"I heard your voice," he said, "who were you talking to?"

"A figment of my imagination, I believe," she answered carefully. Not a lie as far as it went.

"I see." His brow furrowed. He looked as if he wished to speak, but stopped and started several times.

"Were you looking for me?" she prompted.

"Yes," he began delicately. "Abelas told me of your encounter in the Brecilian Forest."

Vir kept her sigh strictly internal. It was no wonder that Inan wanted her to speak with him. The pair probably thought they were helping. She watched as Solas struggled with what he wished to say. He was too controlled to affect the environment with his emotions, but she knew him too well to hope that he was taking the new information positively.

"Something tells me you're not here to thank me," she said with a laugh. She was not laughing at him, but as soon as she did, she knew it was a mistake.

She could almost hear his temper snap. He advanced on her until he was mere inches away. She stood her ground only because she knew that running would be pointless.

" _Red lyrium_ ," he said through clenched teeth. His hands balled into fists at his sides.

Solas had always expressed his fear of the blight and its magic. In all her years, she had never managed to uncover his link to it. She only knew that he viewed even studying it to be dangerous. Using it was either the highest form of ignorance or the ultimate display of malice and with him neither was better than the other. Her Solas had not taken her to task for it, but then her Solas had grown a different perspective.

He shook his head. The heat of his anger began to color his surroundings, a sign of his crumbling control. "Is there nothing you won't do to grasp more power?"

Vir had buried her pride next to the graves of her people the first time she lost them. She had always felt the lives she had lived belonged not to her, but to a duty to find a way to save her people. It was a burden only she could carry so she did, but she was tired and the self-righteous cause of her misery stood in front of her demanding that she defend her methods.

"I'm sorry," she said, fashioning the knowledge of her lifetimes into a weapon. "I didn't have any friends to kill to steal theirs."

She had punched Solas in the real version of this room and it had not sent him reeling as it did now. He backed away, his arms limp, his expression a mixture of shock and anger and guilt. He disappeared.

It took Vir a few minutes longer to force her tired body awake. She did not need to turn her head to know that the bedroll on the far side of the tent was empty. "Good job, Vir," she said to the canvas hanging above her. "Real compassionate. Spoken like a true friend."

 

* * *

 

Solas stared into the waters of a small pond. The forest was silent except for the sounds of a nearby spring. His mind was blank, his body numb. He did not even feel the chill of the wind through the thin fabric of his shirt. Slowly his thoughts formed around his nearest companions. Solas never told anyone what he had done to gather his power. Strange that Vir had never used the information against him.

The ground crunched behind him, the sound of someone with habitually soft footsteps deliberately trying not to mask their approach. His coat appeared next to him. He looked over his shoulder to find Vir holding it at arms length. He took the proffered garb and put it on. He turned back to the pond.

The stayed that way, neither speaking.

"Can we stop fighting for a moment?" she said, breaking the silence. They were the same words he offered her when she first arrived at the tower.

"That depends," he answered. "Do you have more red lyrium weapons laying around?"

She snorted and took a seat on a rock a small distance from where he sat. "No," she said, shaking her head. "They were singular weapons for a single use."

"A single target," he accused, but there was no anger behind it.

"You were the original target," she conceded. "But I'm my own assassin, the target is my choice."

"Do you have any idea the consequences of using such a weapon? What it does to your mind, your spirit?"

"Dagna managed to find a way to eliminate most of the side effects when she forged her enchantments. I won't be sprouting red lyrium crystals or turning to stone."

"It is not possible to use blight magic safely. There is always a price."

"Oh yes," Vir agreed. "Twenty years of my life," she said and shrugged as if it mattered little. "That was the estimate anyway. I didn't ask how she arrived at that number."

He stared at her in horror. She was not young for one of her kind. Twenty years was a price even he would not pay, but for a mortal...

"Don't look like that," she said. "Twenty years in exchange for the world is a bargain."

"But you threw them away, you gained nothing by using them to save my people."

"I wouldn't say that where Inan could hear you," Vir cautioned. "I didn't want to kill you anyway."

"I find that hard to believe."

"Sorry."

"Don't be sorry," he said, his anger slipping out again. "Tell me why."

"Because... I need you," she said softly, her eyes holding his for a moment before looking down at her hand. "Just as you needed me with the mark, I needed you to save my people."

"With your agent's theory?"

She shook her head. "Even without that. My people have dedicated their lives to trying to uncover our past. Our truth. You saw for yourself how well we've done."

He looked away, she did not need any confirmation of his feelings.

"You hold the key to what we were. If we don't learn the truth, we will never break free of the lies that hold us back. The loss of you and your kind would be as terrible for us as our own destruction." Her brow raised again. "Besides, I was never under the belief that you weren't people."

He wanted to believe, but something was missing, something important that explained everything. "There's more isn't there?"

"Yes."

"But you won't tell me."

"No."

"Why not?"

She took a breath and gazed up at the sky. "Partly because I'm a coward. All the relationships I've built would come undone if I were to reveal my reasons. But mostly, because I don't owe it to you or anyone else. I will help you save both our people in whatever way I can, but my life is my own."

He sighed. Her words echoed the ones he had told her long ago at Skyhold. Of course she would remember them and throw them back at him now. "How did you know the source of my power?"

"When you discover you're fighting an elvhen god, what else can you do but ask for advice from the other elvhen god you know." She made a face. "I went looking for Flemeth. I pieced together what happened with Morrigan's help."

"Why did you not use the information to influence my people?"

She frowned. "What happened was complicated, I don't understand fully, but I do understand. I doubt it would do anything except hurt those who have already been hurt. There are things even I won't do."

He nodded, not quite believing her story, but unwilling to argue about it. "I don't trust you."

"I know."

"You don't trust me."

"It's not in my nature."

"Then how do we continue?" he asked. "We have only taken the first steps toward realizing our future and our path will be strewn with obstacles. One misstep can mean disaster. I was a fool to believe that trust was unnecessary."

She was quiet for some time. The sky began to change, the light of dawn coloring the clouds closest to the horizon. "You didn't answer my question."

He looked up.

"I asked if we could stop fighting. Trust can be built over time, if you are willing, but not during war. You've said you wouldn't destroy my people, now that you know we are real. I'm willing to believe you."

His brow furrowed. "Should I believe on faith that you have no more red lyrium weapons, no corrupted addiction, that your mind is free of its influence and that you never truly wanted to kill me?"

"If it makes you feel better," she offered, "using weapons like that again would probably kill me before I could kill you."

He stared at her in disbelief until he realized she was laughing silently. He shook his head again. Her sense of humor was worse than his. "We could stop fighting," he allowed, "but every cease fire requires rules."

She seemed surprised at first, but then she smiled. "I like rules."

"You like finding ways around them," he said, wondering what he was getting into.

"Says Ser Lies of Omission," she responded blandly.

A point and a beginning. "No more lying, not to me. I will ask you questions in the Fade where I will know whether you speak the truth."

"I reserve the right not to answer and no more digging into my past."

He frowned. "I'm not even allowed to ask how you know something?"

"No more _digging_ ," she said with emphasis. "It isn't relevant, it's curiosity."

"Fine. If you start hearing voices or feeling the effects of red lyrium, you must tell me."

She shuddered. "No arguments there. Perhaps we could stop using our past actions to hurt each other."

"That would be what a cease fire is about," he said gently.

"I was taking it literally."

"As am I," he said more seriously. "If you know of any hostilities against my people by yours or anyone else, you must tell me as soon as you are aware."

She nodded. "Of course. Anything else?"

He shook his head. She stood and offered her hand.

His hand grasped hers only long enough for her to squeeze his fingers once, but when they parted it suddenly felt odd to see his hand empty.

"It's a start," she said.

It was.

 

* * *

  
Dirtharevas's suite was larger than most of the other guestrooms at the tower. Room enough for his research. A permanent shielding circle carved into the middle of the floor for experimenting. He had never merited such accommodations in the past. That he had been given the room now was acknowledgment of his importance, but lately that importance had waned. It did not matter. What mattered was that he was right.

 _Now the circle will expand past the boundaries indicated in the plans._ The familiar voice spoke directly in his mind. The spirit was his oldest friend and teacher. It was her guidance that had allowed him to help as much as he had.

"Are you certain?" he asked. He trusted her completely, but when he had shown her arguments to Fen'Harel, the mage had proven them thoroughly wrong. At first the man had been patient with his explanations, but it was plain that his patience was wearing thin.

_The Veil is too strong there to accomplish..._

"But the Dread Wolf took measurements," he protested. Dirtharevas sorted through the pile of notes on the floor, picking up the relevant page. "The Veil is thin there."

_No..._

"There was an explosion a few years ago," he said reading the report. "One of our artifacts was unbound and it weakened the Veil significantly."

_THAT DID NOT HAPPEN. IT SHOULD NOT HAVE HAPPENED. IT NEVER HAPPENED THIS WAY BEFORE._

The spirit had been having trouble in recent years. She recalled events that never happened and misremembered the state of the Veil in places they had been. Dirtharevas blamed the Breach and the subsequent rifts for her problems. "Please, please," he begged, trying to calm her. "I didn't mean to upset you. Perhaps you are right... perhaps the Veil is stronger than he thought."

_He lies, he lies, he lies, he lies. The Dread Wolf is nothing but lies._

"I..." he stuttered, "perhaps I should measure for myself?"

"Measure what for yourself?" someone said from the doorway. The servant called Lindel entered the room carrying a tray.

Dirtharevas jumped. "What?!" he squeaked. "What are you doing here?"

"It's midday," Lindel said calmly. The tray held his regular meal. "You should remember to eat." He circled the room, careful not to tread on any of the pages left on the floor. He moved a stack of notes on the desk to make room for the tray. "Is this the Veil spell?" he asked looking at the pages he held. "Are you checking Fen'Harel's calculations?"

_Get rid of him._

"Shhhhh," Dirtharevas said.

"Why?" Lindel whispered. "What's wrong?"

"What?" he said before realizing that the attendant had not heard the spirit. "I... I mean... quiet, I'm trying to concentrate." He snatched the notes from Lindel's hands. "My work is very delicate."

Lindel tilted his head, reading the notes on the floor. "No wonder these calculations are wrong. You're using the wrong measurements and your notes are a mess."

"You're the _Inquisitor's_ friend aren't you. Don't think I don't know what you're doing. She sent you here to spy on me didn't she?"

"Is there something worth spying on?" Lindel asked.

"She knows I believe her theory is flawed. She wouldn't want me to prove it."

"Actually, she would. A flawed solution gains her nothing. And no, she told me not to come."

_LIES._

"I find that hard to believe," Dirtharevas said, trying not to flinch.

"Be reasonable," Lindel said. "The Inquisitor had spies among us that we knew nothing about. Why would she use the one person who is her most obvious ally in this place?" He began picking up the notes on the floor and organizing them using his small command of magic. He studied the hand drawn maps and constructed a model of the area in question. It was the old style of maps, Dirtharevas had not seen one in ages. "You need help," he continued. "If we are going to build a new future for our people, we should all help each other."

Dirtharevas scoffed at such an idealistic statement, but he approached the model. The detail was perfect. "You know this place?"

"I saw it once," Lindel said with a careless shrug.

"Only once?" The young man nodded. "You are quite a talented, young Lindel. You are wasted on being an attendant."

Lindel studied the map again adding to it. While he worked, the spirit studied him. "I'm not a powerful mage, like you," he said with a bow. "Being an attendant suits me."

_He can't sense me. We can use him. Make him stay._

The words repeated filling his mind. Dirtharevas fluttered his hand, trying to get the spirit to quiet down. He smoothed his hair when he realized Lindel was watching him with increasing concern. "Perhaps being an attendant suited you in the past, but I believe we can put your skills to better use."

Lindel smiled and held out his hand. "Then I look forward to helping you, Master Dirtharevas." 

Dirtharevas took Lindel's hand in a firm grasp. With his assistance, perhaps he could prove the Inquisitor's plan would not work. If not, at least he could gain insight into what the Inquisitor was doing. It was a start.

_Yeeeeessssssss._

 


	9. A new beginning

I am adding this chapter to mark this work complete and to let people who subscribed know that I am continuing this story over here in a new work:  
[Unending Wake: Dreamers Often Lie](http://archiveofourown.org/works/11795196/chapters/26603358)


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